


The Ballad of the Inquisition

by Dissonant_Harmony



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, But he will get his memories back eventually, Elves, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Gen, M/M, Magic, More Plot than Romance, Past Relationship(s), Peaceful Inquisitor, Plot, Slow Pace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-11-28 15:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissonant_Harmony/pseuds/Dissonant_Harmony
Summary: Ysa Lavellan wakes up in a prison cell with a green mark on his hand.Memories of his past are fuzzy in his mind, as if everything he's been before had just been a dream.But now that he is thrown in a world that needs him, how will he manage to balance saving the world and remembering who he is?Contains canon divergence regarding magic and some parts of the lore, especially elves-related.





	1. Out of the Fade

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, and welcome to my second ever fanfiction! (Don't look for the first one, I didn't publish it, it wasn't great).
> 
> As a word of warning, English isn't my first language and the fic isn't beta read. I do hope you still find the read enjoyable ;)

He didn’t remember anything. Only a flash of green light, and a searing pain in his left hand. The pain was still here. Around him, he could hear voices speaking in the common tongue. Arguing. He was in chains; he could feel the cuffs around his wrists. The pain was preventing him from thinking straight; he tried to focus to understand what the voices were saying.

“You said you could bring him back! Why is it that he’s still unconscious, and nothing has changed?,” said an angry feminine voice. Noises of armored footsteps echoed around the room, sabatons pummeling the ground. Hers, probably.

“It may not look like it, Seeker, but his state is stable now. He should wake up any moment now,” answered a calm, male voice, contrasting with the heat of the woman’s anger.

“It’s been two days, Solas. Two days! Have you seen the state of the Breach out there? Do you really think we can afford to wait any longer?”

His thoughts were sorting themselves, slowly. They must have been talking about him. Then, two days - was that the time he was out? He tried to remember something, anything, but no memory came to him, and he only managed to awaken a headache. He winced in pain. The voices shut up immediately. He heard heavy footsteps again, louder and louder as they came towards him.

“You! You are awake! Can you talk? Answer me!” It was the woman’s voice again, speaking to him. He slowly opened his eyes and saw an angry-looking human in front of him.

The room was dim lighted, which he was grateful for, his eyes not accustomed to any sort of light right now. He was in a sort of prison, judging by the barred doors and the guards. There was a barred hatch on the ceiling from which white light came down. It was cold, both the light and the air. Then it must be winter, _season of crows and loneliness and eternal sleep_, he thought to himself.

There were three people in the room, plus two guards at the door. The first one, the human who was talking to him, was a woman in heavy armor. She wore a tabard with a heraldic unknown to him sewed on it - a sword with... wings? - and had a sword to her side. Her hair was black and short, and she had a few scars on her face. She was a warrior, he decided, and hearing her tone as she spoke to the others, she was in charge. Some sort of general, then. She looked important. And she was Seeker, if he remembered correctly from what the male voice said. She was scowling at him, and if he wasn’t so confused she would probably frighten him.

There was only one male in the room, and he was looking at him with intense focus, as were the two others. He was an elf, like him, and he dressed like one. He was tall and bald, and there was no Vallaslin on his face. He looked calm, even-tempered. _The eye of the storm_, said a voice in his head. Seeker called him Solas. Pride was a good name for the elf, he was standing tall and proud, not losing his temper in front of Seeker. He wondered what would be a good name for himself. Wait - he should already have a name, right? The sharp pain in his head came back, and a wave of panic flushed over him.

“What… How… What is my name?”, he asked frantically. He spoke with a light elven accent, not enough to make his words unintelligible, but enough to be noticed.

Seeker seemed surprised for a second, and then her scowl came back.

“Do you really think feigning amnesia will bail you out?” she answered. Bail him out from…? Ah yes, he was in chains. His must have done something, then. Something bad enough that he was heavily guarded and a general was interrogating him. Suddenly, the ache in his left hand flared up, making him cry in pain. He looked at it, and saw a green light flickering from it, threatening to tear it apart.

The last person in the room walked calmly towards him. She was another human, but less heavily armored. She wore a chainmail robe, and a scarf was partially shrouding her head. When she spoke, she did so softly, as if he were a frightened beast she was trying to tame.

“Don’t you remember anything? How you got this mark? What you were doing before blacking out?” He nodded negatively in response. He had nothing. Only the green light, and it was the same in his hand. But something that was so obviously trying to kill him couldn’t be his, right?

“We’re wasting our time. Obviously he doesn’t want to answer,” spat Seeker.

“We should take him to the rifts and test out my theory. You will have all the time you need to get your answers once we’ve closed the Breach,” said Solas.

“Solas is right, Cassandra. Our first priority must be to close the Breach,” added the veiled woman. Cassandra sounded more like a human name. Seeker sounded like an elf name, a name with purpose. Did Solas name Seeker himself? Could he name him, too? It was a distressing thought, not having a name.

Cassandra seemed to hesitate a moment, and then gave in. “Right. I’ll take him there. You two go ahead. We’ll meet at the forward camp.” The two others left the room and only she remained. “You don’t seem to understand what’s going on. You need to be shown what you have done.” She walked up to him and helped him up. “Follow me,” she ordered as she walked to the door.

Outside was blindingly bright. It took him a moment to get used to the light. There was snow on the ground, reflecting the light of the merciless sun. Once he could see clearly, he _saw_. The giant green light in the sky, threatening to tear it apart. Mirroring what was happening to his hand. The thought of the sky breaking filled him with dread. It was worse than the thought of his hand breaking. Even worse than not having a name. He had stopped, and a few paces ahead of him, so had Cassandra. She was looking at him expectantly. He started walking again, fear in his eyes.

They were in a village. Around them, people were looking at them with anger and spite. At _him_, specifically. For a moment he feared they would attack him and kill him here, and walked up to stay close to Seeker. She might scare him, but it didn’t seem like she was going to harm him.

“They want you dead,” she said. “They need someone responsible for this. But we can’t execute you - not yet. Not while we don’t know if you can fix this. Come, we need to get closer to the rifts.”

They walked in silence until the gate of the village, and went outside. He shivered; the harsh cold winds of winter were assailing his skin. He wore only a light and ample cotton tunic, which seemed adapted to long walks, but not that much to long walks in the snow. At least he had closed boots. As they exited the village, Seeker uncuffed him. Staying in chains would have hampered his movements, and he was grateful.

They climbed along a small mountain path. The snowy landscape of the valley below was majestic: stark white contrasting with the dark green of the pine trees, and human houses, so small in the distance, all with chimneys and smoke coming out of them. He shivered again; what wouldn’t he give to be inside one of those houses, instead of out in the cold. It started snowing lightly, small white flakes dotting his long blond hair.

His hand flared up from time to time, causing him to wince and bite back cries of pain. At first, Seeker had been encouraging, but she seemed less and less patient with his bouts. “Please try to keep up,” she had said to him curtly. And he tried.

Suddenly, she stopped, extending an arm to stop him too.

“There’s demons ahead,” she whispered. “I’ll handle them. You stay here.”

He looked ahead. She was right; there were two dark forms in their way. They didn’t seem to have noticed their presence.

Unsheathing her sword and shield, she rushed towards the shadows, crashing into one of them shield first. It seemed to affect it, and it stumbled backwards, trying to regain balance - could a thing without legs really lose balance? - as she sustained her assault. Soon enough, her blade had slain the first demon, who broke down in a pool of black goo on the ground, like liquid shadow. She then turned to the other one, who had been trying to slice her down with his long black claws while she was slaying its companion.

Watching her fight was mesmerizing, and he couldn’t look away. It was too late when he realised that a third shadow was there, and was lunging at him with the intent to kill. He cried, and ran away from it. It was between him and Cassandra, and he couldn’t get to her without risking to get injured. The only thing he could do was to run away and hope she would come to his aid soon enough - and that he wouldn’t run into other demons while fleeing. He was sprinting fast, light on his feet. His fear-instilled adrenaline was helping. He forked away from the path and ran towards a small grove on the left, trying to lose the demon to the trees. It really didn’t look like it could climb a tree, but were shadows even affected by gravity? He would find out.

He found a big enough tree and swiftly climbed up. He perched himself atop the highest branch that could still support his weight. He was light, but not as light as a bird, so he paid careful attention to the way the branches were bending under him. A few moments later, he saw the shadow emerge from behind the trees. It groaned angrily - or hungrily? Could demons feel anything, anyway? - and began circling around the tree he had taken refuge in. He let out a sigh of relief - it didn’t seem like it could climb up. But then, it found a branch low enough to grip with its long claws, and started slowly climbing on the branch.

“No no no no no no…” he muttered under his breath. Panic rose up again in his chest. He started shouting at the demon in elven. “_Go away! Leave! Let me in peace!_” As he was saying that, the branch the demon was hung on suddenly sprang sideways, violently ejecting the shadow. He clang to the trunk of the tree, which was shaking from the roughness with which the demon had been ejected. He hesitated. What had just happened? It really looked like the tree had saved him. Maybe he could thank the tree. It’s not like there was anyone around who could mock him, anyways.

“... Thank you, tree,” he whispered to the wooden being next to him. There was a gust of wind passing through its branches, and he felt as if he could hear the tree answer in the sound of the leaves blown by the wind.

“Who are you talking to? And what are you doing up here? Did you try to escape?” he heard Seeker shout from below him. He looked at her, puzzled. If he was trying to escape, he wouldn’t have stopped in a tree. He knew very well _she_ could climb it.

“I-I was chased by a demon. A third one,” he answered, starting to climb down. “It cut me from you, so I couldn’t get to you. I decided to hide here because I thought it wouldn’t be able to follow me up the tree. I was almost right, and-” He stopped himself. He couldn’t explain that the tree had visibly heard his plea and ridded him of the shade. It was way too unlikely - plus, he wasn’t sure if it really had been the case. Maybe a strong gust of wind?

“And?” she asked, impatiently.

“And he tried to climb but fell.” He pointed down to a puddle of black shadow. He finished climbing down, nimbly jumping from branch to branch, and soon after, his feet were once again on solid ground. Seeker eyed him silently.

“Can you fight?” she asked suddenly.

Blurred memories passed through his head. He remembered a sword, but no fighting. The sword was important. But he was pretty sure he had never used it.

“I don’t think so,” he finally answered. “I had a sword once but - I guess it was just for show.”

She made a face.

“Well then try to pay attention to your surroundings next time we encounter demons. It would be good if you didn’t die because you didn’t see a demon coming. They are quite slow.” He remembered the demon running after him. Maybe he was slow, too. The snow hadn’t helped. He nodded. It seemed to satisfy Seeker, who turned around and began walking back to their path. He followed after her.

After a long march, they finally arrived at the forward camp. It was a small camp established on a bridge, with fortified doors on each side guarded by soldiers. Inside there was a makeshift infirmary, in which clerics tended to wounded soldiers, several boxes containing potions and military equipment, and a commandment tent with a war table. The third woman he had seen in his cell was there, but there was no sign of Solas. The woman walked to them when she saw them coming.

“Cassandra! You made it!” She looked genuinely happy to see them. ”Quick, we have to go to the nearest rift. Solas is already headed there, along with a few soldiers and Varric.”

“_Varric_?” Cassandra made a strangled noise. “Don’t tell me you are working with this… this _dwarf_, Leliana!”

“He offered to help, and we need everyone right now. Most of our men are wounded, or dead. We can’t afford to choose who is helping us.”

Cassandra grunted. “I suppose you’re right. Let’s go, then, we have to catch up to the others.”

“Not so fast!” shouted a voice behind Leliana. It was a human cleric, who had been discussing with her before they arrived. He stood up from his seat next to the war table and walked towards them. His eyes were full of disdain and anger. “It’s _him_, right? The prisoner,” he spat. “Put him back in chains! He is to be transferred to Val Royeaux to face execution immediately!”

“When you say “immediately”, chancellor, do you mean before or after the Breach swallows the sky? Because it looks like we don’t have a lot of time left,” answered Leliana. There were daggers in her soft voice.

The chancellor looked taken aback by her reaction. “I… We can’t just let him be when he is the cause of all of this!” He gestured at the sky.

“This is not for you to decide, chancellor Roderick,” said Cassandra abruptly.

“The new Divine will see to his fate, when she is elected,” added Leliana. “Which could take months. In the meantime, as Left and Right Hands of the late Divine, we hold authority to act. We will try to close the Breach, with or without your help. Now if you excuse us,” she said, grabbing a bow and strappening it to her back, “We are needed in the field.”

And with that, they left a stammering chancellor, and exited the forward camp.

“I have to warn you, Cassandra, the closer we get to the Breach, the more demons we’ll encounter,” said Leliana once they were out. She eyed him before adding, “Maybe we should consider arming him.”

“I already offered,” answered Cassandra. “He says he cannot fight. One time a shadow took him by surprise and he ran away in a tree. I’m inclined to believe him on that.”

Leliana frowned. “Very well. Try to stay out of danger, then,” she told him. “Are you sure you don’t have a name? We can’t just refer to you as “elf” or “prisoner”.”

“I don’t remember. Sorry,” he answered. He wished he did. “I’ll try to remember it again later. But it hurts to think.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes, encountering nothing and no one. Then, they started hearing clamors of a battle.  
“There they are,” said Leliana, readying her bow. Next to her, Seeker was unsheathing her own weapons. “Come with us, we need you to get close to the rift,” she said to him. The rift? Were they talking about the hole in the sky again? It looked far away. Surely they didn’t think about battling all the way until there - if they could ever get there.

He followed them anyway, staying close to Seeker. And then he saw it: a tear in the fabric of reality itself, flickering green light spilling over into the real world, mixing with the light of the sun. Looking at it made him feel uneasy. His gut told him that it was an anomaly; it wasn’t supposed to be there. As he saw them approach, Solas ran up to him. He had a wooden staff in one hand, and he was flicking it around as he was firing spells towards nearby demons. There were blood stains on his off-white robes, and he was bruised, but he still had this same undaunted look in his eyes. _Pride_.  
Leliana started firing arrows, and Seeker charged in the melee. The rift seemed to be endlessly spitting out demons into their world. There were a few soldiers with them, and the body of a fallen one on the side. He also caught side of the dwarf - Varric - who was firing with a gigantic crossbow.

“Quickly, you have to close it,” said Solas, out of breath from the fight. He took him by the wrist and pulled him towards the rift. He followed him with no resistance. Once near the rift, still holding his left wrist, Solas made him raise his marked hand towards it, and he felt an intrusion inside himself, magic, a soul that wasn’t his. It made his skin crawl, and he winced at the unpleasant feeling. It was as if an intangible arm was inside his arm, moving him against his will. Solas’ Fade-hand superposed with his, and he moved his fingers towards the rift, green light of his mark against the green light of the rift. With a few deft moves of his hand, a ray of Fade-light came out of his mark, colliding with the rift, weakening it. After channeling the ray for a few seconds, the rift looked very unstable, and at this moment Solas closed his hand and, just like that, the rift collapsed on itself in a deafening sound - a mixture of thunder and broken glass. He released his hand soon after, and he felt his presence leaving his body.

He stumbled backwards, eyeing Solas warily. The demons had disappeared with the rift; everything was silent and everyone was looking at him. He felt nauseous; there was a throbbing pain in his left hand, pulsing up to his elbow. He looked at his hands, they were greenish. Or maybe it was just the mark?

Solas was the first to speak. “It worked, as I thought. Maybe there is hope for this world yet.” His voice was the same as before, as if he had been unaffected by the previous events.

“Great, now we just have to do the same with the big one!” Varric said in a cynical tone, approaching him. He extended a hand. “Varric Tethras, storyteller. And occasional unwanted tag-along,” he added, looking at Seeker with a grin. He shook his hand.

She scowled. “You are not coming with us, dwarf. I am grateful for your help but you can go back to camp now. Or leave now and go back to Kirkwall - I don’t care where you go anymore.”

“Woah now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I don’t know if you’re aware, Seeker, but the valley is crowded with demons lately. Trust me when I say that you need every pair of arms you can get.” He was still smiling, despite the situation and the scary look Seeker was giving him. He was either mad, or really confident, or lying. He couldn’t decide which.

A palpable tension was growing between the two. Solas stepped forward and smiled to him. “My name is Solas. I am happy to see you still live.”

“He means he watched over you and prevented you from dying all this time,” said Varric.

Oh, so that was why the mark on his hand hadn’t killed him yet.

“_I am grateful for my life, Solas. Thank you for helping me._" he said in elven to the other elf, bowing slightly. For a split second, a furrowing of brows broke the stoic look on Solas’ face.

“Don’t thank me yet. The Breach is still growing. We don’t have much time left, I fear,” answered the elf.

“Yes, we need to go _now_,” said Cassandra. “He can’t fight, so we’ll have to protect him until we get to the Breach,” she added, pointing at him. The others nodded. They quickly decided of a formation and moved on. Cassandra was first, next to Solas. He was right behind them, and the two bowmen closed the march. As good as it felt not to be walking alone behind everyone, he couldn’t help but think that it was a bad idea for him to be between the archers and their potential enemies. He reminded himself that he should duck immediately come a fight.

And there were many fights; fortunately, now that he had four companions instead of only Seeker, they could protect him efficiently. Each time they encountered demons, Cassandra rushed in, backed by Solas who shielded her, and he stayed near the archers who covered them, trying not to get in their way. He would shout when he saw demons that they hadn’t seen, and this way managed to be somewhat useful despite not knowing how to fight.  
Finally, they arrived in what looked like ruins. His companions told him it was the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and that it exploded when the Breach appeared two days ago. There were boulders of carved stone from the temple scattered around them, some of which they found far from their original location. The floor of what once was a proud building was covered by a thin layer of snow, and underneath the snow, there was ash and blood. There were frozen bodies all over the floor, some intact, but many had exploded in several pieces, spilling flesh and guts everywhere. Never had he seen such death; he had to focus hard on not throwing up.

“Take heart. We’re not far from the Breach now,” said Seeker sternly.

Those weren’t exactly encouraging words, but he made do with them anyway, and steeled himself for the task ahead. He just had to get to the Breach, do the same as he had done with the smaller rift with Solas, and then it would be closed. And everything would be back to normal. But - what exactly was normal, for him? He didn’t remember anything from before. A few minutes later, they were at the center of the temple, and he could witness the Breach in its entirety. It was rooted in what used to be an underground room in the temple, and sprang upwards to the sky, where it collided with the heavens themselves, green Fade swirling around, intertwined with the roof of their world. It emitted a light bright enough to illuminate even the night, like the shining glow of a hundred green moons. It was both a beautiful and terrible sight.

There were soldiers posted around the base of the Breach, ready to spring into action. Another human came towards them. He looked as if he had been expecting them. He looked young but scarred, with a crown of curly blond hair. He wore a heavy armor adorned with many symbols and draperies. He looked important, like Seeker, but in a different way: his armor looked less practical and more a show of rank. And while he had seen Cassandra fight, he guessed this one was more a “staying behind and barking orders” kind of general.

“Commander Cullen!” shouted Cassandra as he approached. “Is everyone ready?”

“Yes, Seeker. Everyone is in position. We are only waiting for you.”

“Great. Let’s go,” she said, and beckoned them to follow her.

They began walking down into the room. There was no sign of any demon anywhere, despite being this close to the Breach. Maybe the soldiers that were here had fended them off. While they were descending, Solas spoke to him about the closing of the Breach.

“It’s already closed, but we need to seal it off. And to seal it off, we need to open it first. Just a light pull should suffice. It might attract attention from the other side, though. We will protect you from whatever comes down from it, so focus on closing the Breach as fast as you can. Do you remember how to do it?”

He nodded in affirmation.

“Good. If you ever need help, call for me.”

They separated. He was perched on what remained of a wall of the temple, and they were on the ground, arms bared, waiting for whatever would jump out of the giant rift he was about to open. He flinched, apprehensive. What if he didn’t manage to close it back? What if he just swarmed the world with demons instead of saving it? He closed his eyes, trying to fight off the negative thoughts in his head and to clear his mind. Surprisingly, he managed to do it, and when he reopened his eyes, he was filled with newfound determination. He extended his left arm towards the rift and mimicked the exact same movements he had done with Solas. _A slight pull, then extend, connect, and push_.

A thunderous noise erupted when he pulled at the rift, breaking the silence and making him jump. A giant demon jumped out of the now opened rift, and shouted a deafening roar. Immediately, the warriors below rushed to the fight. The beast was towering over them, tall enough that he could probably grab him from his perch and smash him to the ground, killing him in one blow. _Please don’t see me_. He tried to make himself look small. The demon didn’t seem to have seen him, taking instead an interest in the ones who were fighting him. He extended his arm again. He was trembling. Was it fear? His mind was numb and he couldn’t even tell what he was feeling anymore.

_Please don’t see me_. His marked hand connected with the rift with a green ray of light.

_Please don’t see me_. The demon saw it and turned around, facing him.

_Please don’t see me_. It stared at the ray and looked around for something. Someone? Him? He didn’t have time to think too much about it; he had to close it fast, before the demon found him.

_Please don’t see me_. He felt the rift waver under his hand. He closed his palm around it, caressing it with his fingers. He could almost sense it, the feeling of another world under his fingertips. He looked one last time at the hypnotising green landscapes behind the Veil. He wondered how it would feel to go there. Maybe when he died he would know. With a final push of his hand, he closed the rift, and it seemed to trigger a chain reaction that went up and up to the sky, exploding and propelling him away from the tall wall he was standing on.

And everything went black.


	2. A letter from the Lavellan clan

_ It was midday. The sun was high in the sky, and no clouds darkened the summer sky. He sat on a stump in the middle of a glade, waiting. He could hear the birds sing in the trees and smell the scent of the flowers strewn on the ground. Summer was his favorite season; it was bright and colorful and full of life. He knew, however, it wasn’t the favorite season of the one he was waiting for. He much preferred the long wintry nights, where the stars are brightest and a cold mantle of pure white covered the earth. He was late; he started picking flowers to pass time. He chose the brightest and more colorful, and tangled them in his hair. As he was bent over to pick a flower, he heard a soft voice behind him. _

_ “Ysa!” called the voice. He turned around, a smile lightening up his face. _

_ “Ma Vhenan, you’re finally here! I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore,” he teased. _

_ “You know I would never stop seeing you if I could. I’m sorry I’m late. I brought you a gift to make it up to you, though.” He could hear his voice resonating in his head but it was blurred. As blurred as his face, but he knew he was looking at him- _

_ “A present? How sweet of you. Is it raspberries? You know how I love them.” He kept on talking as if the blur didn’t matter. _

_ “Actually, I thought I would give you something more… tangible. Something you could keep, so that you will always remember me.” He felt a knot growing in his stomach. _

_ “I don’t need a token to remember you if you’re always with me, vhenan.” What was his name? Why couldn’t he remember? He started dissociating from his body. He knew what was going to happen, what he was about to tell him. He didn’t want to hear it. It hurt too much. _

_ The blurred figure presented him with a sword. It was made of bright metal, as if he took the light from the winter moon and forged it into a sword. Intricate motives were engraved on the blade, and there was a wolf etched on the pommel. He remembered the sword clearly, each carving and each detail, as if he had looked upon it thousands of times. He took the sword and caressed its blade. The metal was smooth and cool to the touch. It really was a work of art, more than a sword made for battle. _

_ “You know I don’t fight,” he said pensively, still admiring the sword in his hands. _

_ “Yes, but I do. And this is for you to remember me when I’m gone,” answered the other man. _

_ “You’re leaving me, aren’t you? You’re going at war with the others, like you said you would do so many times before.” There was an itch in his voice, and he felt tears swell up in his eyes. Deep inside, he always knew this moment would come, yet always hoped he would change his mind, forget about war and pain - accept the shelter he’d been offering him time and time again. _

_ The other looked at him pained, even though he couldn’t see his face. It had been too long. _

_ “They must be stopped. So many suffer because of them. I won’t let them harm anymore people. The world can’t be like your paradise, but I will do everything in my power to turn it into something as close to it as I can. This is my promise to you,” he said, clasping his hand that was holding the sword. He closed the gap between them, putting the sword away, and ran a finger along his cheek. His hands were soft, and he could feel the fabric of his sleeve against his neck. “And this, my farewell.” He went in to kiss him. The kiss was slow and tender, and wet with tears. Ysa said nothing. He had nothing to say. Instead, he poured his whole soul in this kiss - their last kiss, he knew it - and etched it in the shadow of his memory, to be cherished forever. _

===

He awoke in a haze - he had been dreaming again. The rays of the sun were piercing through the curtains on the window of his room, and gently caressed his face. He was in bed, warmly cocooned behind two heavy blankets. His entire body was throbbing, but he was alive. He opened his eyes; he didn’t recognise the room he was in. The walls and floor were made of wooden planks, and wooden beams were supporting the roof. There was a cabinet on his right, containing clothes. And, on his left, a small table with a flower pot and some papers.

He sat up in his bed. His head was ringing, but it had been for quite a while now. He would have to deal with it. He slowly remembered the events of the day before - the snow, the Breach, the demons, the dead. And he was here now, and not in prison. Did it mean he succeeded? He heard a muffled gasp. He wasn’t alone. He looked for the source of the noise; in front of him was an elf, looking at him with terror in his eyes. He looked young, only a teenager, and was wearing simple human clothes. When their eyes met, he looked down, and bowed to the ground.

“I’m sorry your Worship, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to wake you up but- but - the Seeker will want to speak to you. At once, she said - you should go now.” Ysa frowned. Wasn’t Seeker her honorific elven name? The boy kept on speaking, faster and faster with each word, panic gaining him. “I-I’m going now. You should too, see the Seeker. At once, she asked - I’m sorry.” He bowed again, and left his room precipitously.

He was alone now, but he could hear clamors outside. His mind flashed back to the day before, when he passed through the humans and they wanted to kill him - Cassandra had been with him then, protected him from their ire. But she wasn’t here now, but she wanted to see him still; what if the crowd decided they wanted to kill him before he could get to her? The idea filled him with dread. He stood up, leaving his bed, and went to the door. His clothing had been changed; he was wearing human clothes now, fitted on his skin and with too many buttons. He put a hand on the door, feeling the wood. _It was dead_, said his mind. Of course it was dead, it was a door. What was he thinking? He straightened up, gathering his courage, moved his hand down to the doorknob, and opened it.

As he opened it the clamor grew louder. And he could finally see the cause of it: there was a crowd of humans, and they were all looking at him, as he had feared. However, unlike he had feared, he didn’t see hatred in their eyes, but joy and thankfulness. He looked up to the sky, blinking as his eyes saw the sun, and found the Breach. It was still there. His heart sank. However, it didn’t glow green anymore - or was it because it was daytime now? Anyway, it looked way less threatening now, swirling less and emitting less light. Maybe he had managed to half close it.

A few soldiers were standing in front of the crowd, preventing them to get in his way. They opened up a path towards the largest building in the village. As he climbed up the stairs to the building, he could hear the crowd praising him, and hailing him as the “Herald of Andraste”. Wasn’t Andraste a human goddess? Surely he couldn’t be sent by her. He would have to ask Seeker - sorry, the Seeker - about it.

He finally arrived, and a guard opened the door to the building for him. It was clearly a religious building, probably a temple. Inside, he saw clerics praying, and statues to the human gods, and a lot of lit up candles. The atmosphere was calm and soothing, until -

“For the last time, chancellor, we are _not_ giving the Herald to Val Royeaux!” he heard a voice shout. It sounded like Cassandra’s, but he wasn’t sure, because it came from behind a closed door.

“You have no authority, Seeker, and, now that there is no immediate threat, no more excuses not to hand the prisoner to the rightful authorities. And he is not some sort of chosen one sent out by the Maker, he is an elf responsible for the deaths of hundreds, including the late Divine Justinia herself!” shouted back Roderick.

He slowed down his pace, anxiously looking at the door. There was a guard in front of it, and he seemed as uneasy as him. He tried to smile at him.

“I’m-” wait, she didn’t know her name. He couldn’t remember yesterday. “The Seeker is waiting for me,” he tried, lifting up his marked hand.

The guard nodded and let him pass. He had said the right thing. He took a deep breath and opened the door of the room, stepping inside.

As he opened the door, everyone inside shut up and turned to look at him. He saw, of course, Cassandra and the chancellor who were shouting just a moment ago, and, a bit further in the back of the room, Leliana, leaned against a wall, observing the rest of them silently.

The chancellor was the first to speak. His face was red and he didn’t try to hide his irritation.

“Guards! What are you waiting for? Chain him!”

Ysa said nothing, and looked at Cassandra with pleading eyes. Their gazes crossed briefly, and she turned to the guards.

“Disregard that, and leave us.”

The soldiers, who had been ignoring Roderick’s orders, obeyed hers, and left the room, closing the door behind them. He released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“You can’t do that! He failed to close the Breach. On purpose, for all we know,” said the chancellor angrily.

“I can, chancellor,” answered Cassandra, walking towards a large table in the back, “and I will. Leliana, the book.”

Leliana, who had kept silent until then, approached the table with a book in hand. It was a large book, with metal ornaments and bindings, the symbol of a sword in an eye on its cover.

“The danger we are facing is too big to be ignored. We are declaring the Inquisition reborn,” said Cassandra solemnly. “And we will fix this, whether you like it or not.”

Roderick glared at her. He was fuming._ Music would calm him down_, said a voice. It wasn’t the time for music, though. He didn’t have an instrument on him, anyways. And did he even know how to play? Vague memories of playing the lyre in the forest came to him. Yes, he knew how to play. How to soothe the minds and stir emotions. Maybe when all of this is over he could wander the land playing music. That sounded nice.

The sound of a door banging pulled him out of his thoughts. He blinked; the chancellor was gone. Cassandra and Leliana remained, looking at him expectantly.

“What do you say? Will you stay and help us?” asked Leliana softly.

“Help you? I cannot fight, I don’t think I can help you,” he answered, confusion visible on his face.

“Perhaps, but you can learn. And besides, you are the only one capable of closing the rifts - that we know of, at least.”

Ah, yes, the rifts. He had almost forgotten, but they had told him that there were many of them, scattered all over the land.

“What about the Breach? The man said it isn’t closed, and I still see it in the sky, though it looks way less menacing now,” he asked.

Cassandra sighed. “You… We failed to close it. But we managed to stabilise it. No more demons will come out of it, and it has stopped growing.” She paused, looking at him. When he didn’t react, she resumed. “Solas theorised that if we use as much power as what has been used to open the Breach, we should be able to close it for good. To heal the sky.”

“But we don’t know how much power exactly has been expanded when creating the Breach, nor do we have allies willing to lend us such power,” added Leliana. “We are facing a tall order - but we must overcome it, if we want to save the world.”

“That is why we have declared the Inquisition. With a name and a purpose, we should be able to gather enough support to aid us,” said Cassandra.

“Except the chancellor will try to pit the Chantry against us. The Chantry may not have armed forces since the Templars left, but its voice is still loud enough to deny us allies.”

“Surely at least some of them will see reason. Our cause is just.”

“Never underestimate the power of politics, Cassandra,” said Leliana with a smile. She turned to him. “Are you feeling better, by the way? You seemed very lost yesterday.”

“Yes, thank you. Yesterday was… hard. I can remember a bit of my past now. I’m Ysa. And… I will help you, if I can.”

Leliana’s smile widened. “I’m glad to hear that. We will be planning our next course of action now. You should have a few days before we leave Haven. In the meantime, try and make yourself at home here. We’ll send someone if we need you.”

“All right. I’ll take my leave, then,” he said, bowing slightly, before leaving the room.

It felt odd, being free in a human settlement. All of his memories were from the woods, not from cities. This one was small, though, and it took him only half an hour to tour the village. Most inhabitants seemed to be pilgrims or refugees, and there weren’t actually many permanent residents. The most notable buildings were the tavern and the temple, which he learned was called a chantry (but still different from the Chantry with a capital C which was the human religion). Outside of the city’s gates, there was a forge and small stables, and it was also where the soldiers he had fought with the day before were staying. He spotted Cullen there, who was training with some recruits.

His stomach growled, and he decided to go to the tavern and grab something to eat. Maybe listen to music to pass time. _Maybe play music to pass time_. They had musicians, right? His question was quickly answered as he heard the sound of a luth closing in on the tavern. He pushed the door open, and was welcomed by a wave of heat coming from inside. He quickly entered and closed the door behind him, and looked around.

The tavern was quite small, but welcoming nonetheless. There was a cosy atmosphere, with a few people sitting at tables, some drinking, some eating, some speaking quietly with their friends. He clearly didn’t come at rush hour. He spotted a familiar face: it was Varric, who saw him too and beckoned him to come.

“Look who’s finally woken up! The Herald of Andraste himself” said the dwarf as a greeting. He had a smile on his face, and patted the chair next to him. Ysa took the chair and sat next to his companion - well, he didn’t really feel like a companion right now, but they would be seeing each other more now that he had agreed to stay.

“Hi, Varric. My name is Ysa. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you yesterday,” he said to the dwarf, smiling too.

“Wait. Do you remember what happened, then? Before, I mean?” He looked serious all of a sudden.

Ysa sighed. “No, only fragments of memories, nothing about the Breach. Except, well, yesterday, of course.”

“Mmh. At least you aren’t giving the Seeker a reason to interrogate you,” he said sourly. A shadow clouded his face for a moment, but disappeared as soon as it had appeared, and the same smile he had greeted him with came back on his face. “Anyway, surely you didn’t come here to think about this kind of stuff. Tavernkeep! My friend is hungry, and I am thirsty! Got anything for us?”

The tavernier laughed. “Right away, _master Tethras_,” he said with a grin, and soon after he disappeared in the back room.

Varric turned to him again. “So, are you alright? Apart from the memory loss, I mean. And the big hole in the sky. And the green light trying to take over your hand.” He tried to look jovial, but there was a hint of worry in his voice.

“Apart from all that, I am well, thank you. Just a bit sore from the explosion yesterday.” He paused as the tavern keeper was bringing them drinks and food. It didn’t exactly look appetizing, but he was hungry now, and complaining about the quality of the food would be abusing his hosts’ hospitality.

“Also, what’s with this Herald of Andraste name?” he asked between two bites. “Isn’t she a human goddess?”

“Well, not exactly goddess, but close. You see, when you fell out of the Breach, people saw a woman behind you. Nobody knows who she is, and given that you have the power to close rifts, and came from the Fade, they decided that it was probably Andraste herself tossing you out of the rift to save us all in our time of need.” Ysa couldn’t help feeling that the dwarf was only half joking. “So, if you’re here, it means that the Seeker managed to convince you to stay, right? Honestly, it won’t be easy, if all the rifts are spitting out demons and you can’t fight… I mean, I suppose you could be taught how to, you know, but it would take years before you stop being dead weight.”

“I’ll just focus on becoming good at not dying, then. It should be easier for everyone,” he answered, laughing a little. Even if he could learn how to fight, he wouldn’t. He despised violence, and was happy that they had counted him out from the start.

“Seeing how you handled yourself when we were closing the Breach, I’d say you’re already quite good at this. You hid so well then that we lost sight of you during battle. It took us a good ten minutes to find you after the explosion, too.”

Ysa frowned. “What do you mean you lost sight of me? I was perched atop the same wall for the whole fight.”

“The wall..." He facepalmed. "Of course you were on the wall. Why didn't we think to look there? Go figure. I’m just saying, you have potential here.”

The rest of the day was uneventful. He spent a good deal of time talking to people - or rather, being asked questions by people. He was also approached by several pilgrims asking for his blessing. At first, he hesitated; he shouldn’t lie. But those people needed hope, so he went ahead and touched them, praying for nature - not Andraste - to protect them. It seemed to satisfy the humans, who thank him many times before leaving him.

This visibly had not escaped Solas, who came to him at nightfall as he was leaving the tavern to get to his room.

“Enjoying your newfound fame?” He heard him say from the sheltering shade of the night. He stopped, and turned to look at him. His face was lit only by the distant light of a torch, but his keen elven eyes could easily see him in the dark. He smiled and walked up to the other.

“Good evening, Solas. Those people are mistaken. I am no herald, and certainly not of a human goddess, but those people need hope. Me denying them would get us nowhere.” He tried to read Solas’ face, but there was nothing but neutrality there.

“I understand their need for hope, but lying to them isn’t helping,” he retorted. “The blessing you give them is not yours to give.” _But it is_, said the voice in his head. Solas resumed. “I understand that you wish to do well, but be careful not to let it go to your head, Ysa. You know how quick humans are to turn on our people.”

He wasn’t wrong. He could see how humans treated elves here in Haven. He knew that their tribes were living in exile, and that even exile was better than living in ghettos in human cities.

“You’re right. Thank you, Solas.”

He then bid him good evening, and went to his room for the night.

He spent quite a bit of time awake in his bed, tossing and turning as blurred memories came back to his mind. He remembered friends, and a clan, and forests of trees as tall as the sky. He remembered music, and melodies from another time, lyrics lost to all but a few. He remembered a lyre, a lover, and a sword. He remember long robes of intricate designs… He remembered so much, but everything was faint, and his memory was fuzzy. After what seemed like hours, he decided to get up, and took the blank journal someone had given him. He started drawing, etching his memories in ink, as to not lose them again.

===

The next few days went on almost peacefully. Ysa made the acquaintance of Josephine, an Antivan “bard” who Leliana had called to become the Inquisition’s own ambassador. Her task was simple: convince the world - especially the nobles and otherwise influential people of the world - that the Inquisition was important and that it was both useful and valuable to help it. Considering the little he knew about human politics, she had a lot of work ahead of her. One of her first decisions was to inquire about his origins - which was no small task, given how few things he remembered. Fortunately for them, they soon received a letter that would shed some light on the situation.

“Ysa! May I talk with you for a moment, please?” had asked him Josephine as she saw him wander the halls of the chantry building.

“Of course Josephine. What do you need?” he had answered, following her to her makeshift office. It was a dim lighted room in an aisle of the chantry, with a simple desk and a few chairs. Rough but practical. He sat on one of the chairs as she sat behind her desk.

“We received a letter from the Lavellan clan this morning,” she began. “They are a Dalish clan living in the woods north of here. They claim that you are one of them.” Lavellan? The name echoed in his thoughts. It wasn’t the first time he heard this name.

“Lavellan? Did they tell you who I am - to them, I mean?” he asked, hopeful. Maybe they could answer a few questions he had asked himself so many times these past days.

“Not much, actually. They say they _found_ you. In the forest, a few years ago. You had no memory of who you were and they took you in. In the clan, you assumed the role of storyteller. They also sent us this, as a proof.” She pulled a package from under her desk. Ysa eyed it with curiosity. The object inside was quite flat, and a few dozen centimeters wide, and as tall as it was wide. She offered it to him.

“We… took the liberty of opening it. In case it was a trap. The letter matches perfectly with what we know of you, but - there is no such thing as “too cautious”, as Leliana said.”

He took the package and opened it. It was a lyre. _His lyre_. He stroke the light brown wood of the instrument, memories of songs and poems flooding to him. A smile came to his face.

“Thank you, Josephine. This means a lot,” he said simply.

“May it take your mind out of your burdens,” she answered. “The Lavellan have asked for news about you. What should I write them?”

“Tell them that I am well, and that I like it here. Tell them I’ll come back someday, but they shouldn’t wait for me in the meantime. Tell them-” he stopped. He couldn’t tell them that he was thinking about them. He had almost forgotten their very existence. “That should suffice. Thank you for doing this for me,” he said again, bowing his head. She smiled back and he took his leave from her office.

He wandered outside, his hands still gripping the lyre. It was very precious to him. How could he forget? He had spent so much time learning songs and writing lyrics. His hands itched; he wanted to play. Without thinking about it, his feet took him to the tavern. He pushed the door; it was noon and the room was crowded. He greeted the ones he knew with a nod, and went to Maryden, the human minstrel who was playing in the tavern. He had had the occasion to speak with her a few times already; they were on friendly terms. She smiled as she saw him approach, eyeing the lyre in his arms.

“Ysa! Have you decided to replace me?” she asked jokingly.

He laughed. “Perhaps. It’s been a while since I last sang, however, so I suggest that we let the audience decide.” Her smile widened, and he continued, in a more serious tone. “I would like to sing a song. I don’t mean to compete against you, I just want to remember how it feels.”

“Of course. The gift of music is made to be shared with everyone, after all.” She took a few steps back. “The stage is yours, Herald of Andraste!”

She had said that quite loud, and it attracted a few curious glances from the surrounding tables. Ysa tried to ignore the eyes that were on him as he adjusted his posture. He closed his eyes a moment, remembering the song. It was a joyous song, green and young and fresh and full of life like a spring afternoon. He reopened his eyes, and let his fingers gently pinch the chords of his lyre. He sang, and it was as if time itself had stopped. The song was in elven, but the language of music knew no boundaries, and the mood in the room shifted. Soon enough, everyone in the tavern had their eyes riveted on him. Some started to dance, others to clap in rhythm. When he finished the song, they applauded. Everyone seemed to be in a great mood, and Ysa was grateful to see that he could alleviate whatever burden they had been carrying.

Maryden practically jumped on him when he was finished. She was giddy with excitement.

“You weren’t joking when you said you could replace me! That was quite the show!” She was practically bouncing up and down, barely containing her joy. “Say, when all of this is over, how about you travel with me? It would be better than alone. And you could learn new songs - with what you made me feel in elven, I can only imagine how you would do with lyrics people can understand!”

Ysa blushed. He wasn’t used to being complimented so much. _Or maybe he was, and he didn’t remember_. “Sounds like a great idea! Traveling in charming company is always enjoyable, after all.” He turned towards the tavern’s exit. “I’ll come back later. Maybe tonight we could play together?”

“Awesome! I’ll think of a few simple songs you could learn by then. As much as I would love singing yours, I don’t know a word of Elven,” she answered.

“Of course,” he said, and went to leave the tavern.

He had a hard time reaching the exit door: his little act had attracted even more people that those who were already inside when he started playing. Some also asked him for another song; he told them that he would be playing this evening. He finally reached the door, and was greeted outside by the cold winter wind. It lifted off the slight torpor the tavern always put him into. Looking around, his eyes met Solas’ ones. The bald elf was looking at him from besides his house, which was near the tavern. He held up his hand, beckoning him.

Ysa walked up the stairs separating them and greeted him.

“Good day, Solas. I hope all is well,” he said politely, a smile still on his face from before.

“Good day Ysa. I couldn’t help but notice you play in the tavern. You attracted quite a crowd.”

“Yes. I guess they were curious to see their “Herald” play music. Or maybe it was the exotism of hearing an elven song.”

“Your rendition of the song…” Solas began. He paused a bit, as if taking the time to think. “It was quite close to the versions I heard in the Fade.”

Ysa frowned, confused. “What do you mean? Of course the song would be close, if it is the same song.”

“Well, considering the original version of this song is thousands of years old, it’s actually impressive that your version is so close. At least one thing the Dalish did right.”

It wasn’t the first time he heard Solas rant about the Dalish. For once he had time; and decided to indulge his curiosity.

“What exactly did the Dalish do wrong?” It was genuine interest, and he hoped Solas didn’t take it as an attack. The man was impossible to read or predict.

“What did they do wrong? They forgot everything!” he said, raising his voice. “And the few they haven’t forgotten, they’ve distorted so much that it doesn’t mirror at all the elves of old. They like to pretend that they are “true elves”, but in reality they are but a husk of what Elvhenan used to be.”

They had talked before about Solas’ ability to wander the Fade in dreams, and to see and hear the events of the past as if he had been there. He sometimes wished he could do the same; it sounded like a really interesting ability, especially for someone as curious as him.

“Could you give me an example of something important they forgot? I would love to learn more about the ancient elves,” he asked.

“Well, for example, the Dalish forgot how to speak elvhen. They remember snippets of phrases, a few important words, but not enough to speak it anymore,” Solas answered.

Ysa’s confusion was growing. It must have shown on his face, because Solas raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

“What do you mean they don’t speak it anymore?” He scanned his memory. He remembered verbs. Tenses. Grammar. A myriad of words, all with subtle meanings. Everything was here. He looked at Solas. He didn’t have the vallaslin on his face. He wasn’t Dalish. He probably grew up in a human city, or somewhere else sheltered from the world. But he visibly hadn’t been in contact with the Dalish. If he had, he would know. He spoke again, this time in elvhen.

“_Of course we can speak elvhen, Pride. Perhaps you simply haven’t talked to the right elves yet._”

Solas looked taken aback, but quickly put back his mask of impassibility.

“I see. Maybe your clan is an exception, then. Now, if you have nothing left to ask, I have my own matters to attend to.” He had a lot of things to ask, actually. What were the ancient elves like? How did they live? What was their society like? He had heard tales about the city of Arlathan, did he see it through the Fade? But Solas didn’t look like he was in a mood for more talk, and Ysa excused himself, bowing his head to bid him goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	3. To the Hinterlands

Never had the small tavern of Haven seen so much people. Some advised that they should not do the concert inside, as there wasn’t enough room for everyone; but the cold outside made it impossible to play there, and the only building big enough to contain everyone was the chantry, and the clerics had been clear that they didn’t want layman music to be played there (plus, the acoustic in the chantry wasn’t great for this type of music).

People came in as early as late afternoon to reserve a seat for their little show. The performance wouldn’t start before the night, when everyone had eaten, but the room was already full by then - Ysa and Maryden almost couldn’t make it in. As they took place on stage, Ysa glanced at the crowd of spectators, looking for familiar faces. He saw Varric, of course, leaned against the countertop, beer in hand. He was talking with some soldiers he vaguely knew. He didn’t see Solas, but he wasn’t expecting him to come. To his surprise, though, he noticed that both Cassandra and Leliana had come to see him play. He smiled shyly at them.

“So, ready for the gig of your life?” asked Maryden cheerfully. Of course, it could seem silly to think that the “gig of his life” was him playing in a small tavern in a pilgrim village in front of refugees; but he didn’t remember ever playing for so many people.

“Of course,” he answered, and adjusted his lyre in his hands. Oddly, he felt calm, and his stomach wasn’t knotted with stress as he would have expected. He and Maryden had spent the afternoon rehearsing in his room; they were planning to play a few pieces together, and a few on their own. The duets Maryden chose were quite simple, and he was able to learn the music and the lyrics easily.

She cleared her throat and addressed the crowd. “Thank you all for coming to our recital. This first piece is called “Two crows”.

The room went silent and all eyes focused on them. This one was a duet, and the sound of his lyre fell in line with Mareyden’s luth. Their voices intertwined, counting the story of two crows in a battlefield preying on fallen soldiers. It was quite grim, but quite poetic, too; and it showed how life came from death, and how death was as inevitable as it was important. They had planned to start with calm songs, and finish the evening on a more cheerful note.

The second song was sung by Maryden alone, one of her own compositions - “Empress of Fire”. He hadn’t heard this song before, as they focused on their shared pieces when rehearsing. This song was calm too, but didn’t tell a tale of death. He wasn’t quite sure who the “empress of fire” was alluding to, and supposed that he didn’t know enough about human politics to grasp the meaning of the song.

And then it was his turn to play alone. He had chosen an elvhen song, which roughly translated to “Elegy for a mother”. It was a sad song, a mourning song, which made all the fibers in his body grieve in sorrow. He sang and sang, eyes closed, and the elvhen words rolled off his tongue, finding their ways directly to his audience’s hearts. None of them understood the lyrics; but deep inside, all could feel the pain of losing a loved one, and all wept as the music resonated in their souls.

He reopened his eyes as he pinched the last chord of his instrument. He wiped a tear off his face. He hadn’t realised he was crying. The room was silent; there was no applause. As he looked around, he saw that they were all crying. He turned to Maryden to prepare for the next song; but she too was crying. For a few awkward minutes, nobody made a noise. Finally, the minstrel’s cracked voice broke the silence.

“I think we should adjourn the rest of this concert,” she said, still sniffing a bit. “Sorry everyone. We’ll be sure to make it up to you. Maybe tomorrow.”

There were no complaints. Villagers and soldiers alike stood up silently and left the building one by one, muttering thanking words to the artists. The mood was at its lowest, and Ysa felt like he shouldn’t play this song again. Maryden left, too, without a word. A few minutes later, he was almost alone in the room, save for the barkeep and Leliana, who approached him. He looked at her; her eyes were red but her face wasn’t displaying any emotion.

“In all my years as a bard, I have never seen someone have so much power over his audience,” she said. Her voice was low, not whispering but close.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… It’s such a beautiful song, but I wouldn’t have played it had I known it would affect you.” He was at a loss for words. He wanted to say sorry; but the others had wanted to hear him play, and the sad songs were so beautiful to his ears, and there was no reason he shouldn’t play them, but if it downed everyone’s mood - music was intended to make people feel things, but maybe there was such a thing as too much feelings.

The shadow of a smile passed on Leliana’s lips. “I think with everything that’s happening right now, it hit a little too close to home,” she said simply. “Have you thought about your enemies, though?”

He let out an awkward laugh. “What- my enemies?” He didn’t have enemies. He couldn’t remember ever wishing harm on anyone. Even the demon who was chasing him; he never wanted to kill it. But the look on Leliana’s face showed that she was dead serious.

“Morale plays an important part in all battles, Ysa. Destroy the enemy’s morale, and you destroy him. A demoralized opponent will stop fighting and give up the battle. Being able to influence the morale of our foes would be a powerful tool.”

“You’re not suggesting I walk up to demons and start playing music for them?” he asked, laughing nervously. It sounded ridiculous and impractical; plus, could demon even be affected by music? They were the embodiments of raw emotions, after all.

“Not demons. But you are well aware that demons will not be the only threat we face. You’ve heard what the Chantry thinks of us. And we are in a territory ravaged by civil war; and both sides of this war may turn on us because we have no allegiance to either of them.”

“I’m not fighting humans,” he answered, more abruptly that he would have wanted.

She raised her voice a little. “You won’t have a choice.” Her traits then softened again as she continued. “Think about it. If our enemies abandon the fight, then we won’t have to kill them, and no blood will be shed.”

She was right. As much as he hated the thought, he knew he would have people opposing him. Actual people, with lives and families and friends. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if he had a mean to peacefully prevail?

“The others… Will be within earshot, too,” he said. “We can’t really ask them to fight with their ears plugged. I really don’t think this would work in a fight. Maybe with magic? I don’t really know...”

There was a thoughtful silence, each searching for a solution. Finally, Leliana spoke up.

“I’ll ask Solas tomorrow. Maybe he can do something. Magic isn’t exactly my area of expertise.” He nodded. “In any case, Herald, I bid you goodnight. I’ll see you at the war meeting tomorrow morning.”

He winced. Cassandra, Cullen, Josephine and Leliana had planned a meeting to decide how to handle the situation with the Chantry. It had been decided that Ysa would have to meet them; but at the moment they refused to reply to the Inquisition’s letters. Josephine had theorised that with more leverage, their voice would be heard; and the only way to get more leverage was to intervene in the neighbouring Hinterlands, which was torn by the feud between mages and templars. They were keen on sending him there himself to help solve the situation for the inhabitants - even if he didn’t know how to fight, he was still the one hailed as the Herald of Andraste, and the one with the hand that could close rifts.

There was probably a way of avoiding the civil war while still helping people, though.

“See you tomorrow, Leliana. Good night.”

They left the tavern, each returning to their quarters, leaving behind them an empty room where only the barkeep remained, slumped on a chair, gazing into the void.

===

The sun wasn’t even up when he left his room for the war meeting. The wind was freezing, and even the fur mantle Ysa was wearing couldn’t entirely block the cold air. He was early, so he allowed himself a shortcut through the tavern to grab breakfast. Most villagers were still asleep, and the building was almost empty. He spotted Varric at the bar, and went to greet him.

“Good day, Varric. You’re up early,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, hey Ysa. How come you’re here? Didn’t you have a war meeting this morning?” asked the dwarf. He had deep bags under his eyes, and was dishevelled. He wondered how much sleep he’d had this night.

“Not before at least fifteen minutes. I have time to eat something. Enduring war meetings on an empty stomach isn’t a good idea, trust me. I’ve tried,” he answered jokingly.

The dwarf let out a laugh that seemed forced. “Yeah, I can imagine. About yesterday…” he began, and stopped.

“Oh, sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t intending to- didn’t want- it was meant to be a nice evening for everyone. I’m sorry.”

A sad smile appeared on his friend’s face. “Yeah. Try to sing more joyous songs next time. Maybe I could teach you one or two.”

Ysa’s face lit up. “I’d love that!”

Varric laughed again, heartily this time. “We’ll see about it later. Go and eat something, you wouldn’t want to be late. Cassandra would probably skin you alive if you were.”

Ysa smiled, and ordered breakfast. He ate alongside Varric, though he couldn’t talk a lot, as he was running out of time. He quickly finished eating and went to the war room - this time without stopping.

“Herald! We were just waiting for you,” said Josephine as he entered the room. “Now, let us begin this meeting. As you know, the Chantry has denounced us, and this compromises any support we might receive from nobles and other important people.”

“Not only that, but it also affects the commoners’ opinion of us. However, if we show directly to the people that we’re here for peace, some may reconsider their stance on the Inquisition,” added Leliana.

“We’ve received word yesterday from a certain Mother Giselle, a Chantry sister,” resumed Josephine. “She says that if we help stabilise the situation in the Crossroads, she will help us convince the Chantry to speak with us. And then we’ll be able to show them that we mean no harm - and that you, Ysa, are no demon.”

He nodded. He apprehended the Chantry meeting, because he still remembered the words of the chancellor Roderick towards him. It was unlikely that they would try to kill him during an official meeting, though - but he wasn’t sure they would ever reconsider their stance. Josephine had explained to him that elves weren’t exactly well regarded by the Chantry, and were, among other things, prohibited from becoming clerics of Andraste.

“While you’re in the Hinterlands, you should also try to contact master Dennet. His farm is not far from the Crossroads, and he is said to be an excellent horse master. And Maker knows our troops are in need of good horses right now,” said Cullen. He wasn’t exactly the most talkative of the four, but everything he said was practical and to the point. It was a trait Ysa valued highly, as those war meetings tended to last for hours.

“Noted,” he answered. “I’ll see if I can convince the man to lend us aid.”

“First you’ll have to see if he still lives,” interrupted Leliana. “We have tried to contact him but we haven’t had any answers yet. And he lives in the middle of what is basically a battlefield for the mage-templars war.”

“I… see. I hope I will find him well, then.”

She nodded. Cassandra spoke up.

“We’ll leave for the Hinterlands at noon. We cannot afford to remain idle any longer. We have to act before others act against us.” She paused, looking at him. “I’ll tell Solas and Varric after the meeting. Our supplies for the journey have already been prepared. The smith provided you with a leather armor, if I am not mistaken. Please put it on, it will help you to stay alive, and make our jobs in battle easier.”

“About that-” began Leliana.

“We have already discussed this, Leliana, and my answer is still no,” interrupted Cassandra. “You can’t have him play music on a battlefield. It would do nothing but make him an easy target. And there is a difference of audience between villagers listening with an open ear and trained fighters with blood in their eyes.”

Leliana glared at her. “Fine. I’m sure we’ll find another way to use this… skill of yours, Herald.”

It didn’t please him, but he said nothing. He hated the thought of music being weaponized.

“Well, I think we’ve covered everything,” said Josephine, breaking the silence that had set in. “We’ll release you so that you can prepare for your departure to the Hinterlands, Ysa, Cassandra. We’ll call for you if we need anything in the meantime.”

Ysa breathed a sigh of relief. It had been short. He followed Cassandra out of the room. She briefed him quickly while they walked back to their respective rooms.

“The Crossroads are one hour from here on foot. Our men have already set up an advanced camp there. We’ll meet with them and get the scouts’ reports on the situation. Then we’ll decide our course of action, but it will probably be to go directly to the crossroads, fight off any apostate who threatens the civilians, and secure the perimeters with our men. Then you will go and meet with Mother Giselle.”

He nodded. The plan sounded solid. “Do we really have to fight the apostates, though? Surely they can hear reason. The civilians aren’t templars, and neither are we. They shouldn’t attack us.”

“Mages are dangerous, Ysa. Free mages even more so. You’d be surprised how far people are willing to go to preserve their freedom. Especially people as powerful as them.”

He wondered if there really was no other solution. But in the situation they were in, there was no other way but to shed blood. With more support and political power, they would probably have enough influence to directly negotiate with the leaders, and them at least could be reasoned with. It was always easier to talk over a cup of tea than over a battlefield.

They separated. He went to his room and put on the armor the craftsmen had made for him. It suited him really well, and fitted close to his body. It was slightly less practical to walk around in compared to normal clothes, but it wasn’t exactly hindering his movements, and if it could prevent an arrow from cutting him too deep, then it was worth it.

The time for departure came quickly, and soon they were on their way to the Crossroads. As they were going to regroup with the forces at the forward camp, only the four of them were going - Solas, Varric, Cassandra, and him. The road was uneventful, and for an hour they followed a small country road that lazily serpented from Haven to the valley below. As they descended, snow became more and more rare, and after walking for about half an hour, it was all but gone. Ysa removed the fur mantle from his shoulders and finished the walk carrying it in his arms.

“I told you you’d been too hot wearing both your leather armor and your coat,” teased Varric.

“If I had known that you would stop being cold one day, I wouldn’t have believed it,” added Solas, grinning. Ysa had never seen the elf with shoes, even in the snow. And he was bald and didn’t even wear a cap. How the other man hadn’t suffered any frostbite yet was a mystery.

“Wow, was that humor, Chuckles? I’m impressed. Let me record it in my book, for posterity,” laughed Varric.

“I do have a sense of humor, child of the stone. I just happen to have manners, unlike you.” His tone was light, leaving no doubt that it was only friendly banter.

“Look, the forward camp is up ahead,” said Cassandra.

They all looked in front of them. Further on the road, they could see a few tents, with Inquisition banners and flags leaving no doubt about to whom the camp belonged. The encampment sat upon a small cliff, giving them a good view of the Crossroads below. As they approached, they were greeted by a grim spectacle: pillaged carts and burning houses, dead bodies lying on the floor, and, in the middle of it all, mages and templars fighting to the death, staff against shield, man against man.

It was the first time Ysa saw war. He couldn’t comprehend why people would resort to such violence, needlessly and willingly ending lives. He couldn’t understand the thirst for blood that seemed to animate them. Couldn’t understand why they were killing their own brothers. He felt sick.

“You alright, Dreamy? You’re really pale,” asked Varric. Ysa’s tendency to get lost in his thoughts had earned him the nickname from the dwarf.

He was obviously not alright, but he tried not to show it, and recomposed himself.

“Yes. Sorry, I’m just not used to such bloodshed,” he answered.

“You will have to,” said the calm voice of Solas behind him. “There is only death on the path we are walking.”

The others shot him a weird look, but didn’t have the time to answer his claim, because a dwarf was walking towards them, hailing them. She had red hair and freckles, and was waving at them, almost running. She looked happy - relieved, perhaps? - to see them.

“Herald! Cassandra! I’m glad you made it,” she said, slowing down when she arrived to their level. She was panting; the chainmail armor she was wearing had to be hampeding her movement.

“Scout Harding,” answered Cassandra. “What news? Judging by your reception, the situation must have evolved.”

“Not exactly. It’s just - the fights have resumed with even more intensity and the front is moving closer and closer to the settlement in the Crossroads. I fear if we do not act quickly, there might not even be a settlement there tonight.”

“Right. Tell our troops to get ready. We’re going to make a breakthrough. I will also hear your full report. I need all the information I can get to plan the assault.”

“At once, Seeker,” said the scout, hurrying back to the camp. They were close now, and reached the tents only a few moments later. The soldiers looked at them as they arrived, with mixed expressions on their faces - some looked ecstatic to see their “herald” himself come to them, others were worried as to what their presence here meant. They were actively getting ready for the fight, donning their armors and sharpening their swords. Harding regrouped with them shortly after their arrival, and led them to the commandment tent.

She thoroughly briefed them on the situation at hand. The war front had moved and was now between them and the settlement in the Crossroads. While it meant they couldn’t secure the civilians without going through the battlefield, it also meant they had a slight tactical advantage as they were going to attack them from an angle they weren’t expecting. Ysa said nothing; he had already tried to convince Cassandra not to attack times and times again, but she was adamant that they had no choice. And there was truth in her words; he didn’t have any idea how to save the villagers and stabilise the situation here without forcibly putting an end to the mages-templars conflict in the region.

“Alright. We’ll set up the archers here and there, on top of the cliffs,” said Cassandra, pointing at the map. “Not you, Varric, you’re too valuable. You’ll come with me and Solas in the shock force.”

“Oww, you touch me, Seeker. I always knew you liked me, deep inside,” said Varric teasingly.

“Shut up before I regret bringing you with us, dwarf,” she answered curtly. “Now, as I was saying, our troops should split up here, with most of them going for a direct approach from the west, while I lead a smaller assault from the east to reach the Crossroads as soon as possible and prevent both mages and templars from retreating there - and murdering civilians in their wake.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Varric, a bit more serious this time. “What about our friend Dreamy here? I can’t imagine you’ll bring him with us in the shock troop.”

“You are correct, I am not. He’s staying here.”

“He’s _ what_?”

“What do you want me to do, put him in danger? He’s staying here in the camp with Harding and the other scouts, while we secure a safe passage to the Crossroads. Then we’ll escort him there to meet with the people and the Chantry mother.”

Her tone made it clear that this was not negotiable. A weight lifted from his chest; he wouldn’t have to see more death than necessary. He had been the first to plead not to go to the front again during their war meetings, but Leliana always insisted that he should, as it was the only way for him to get used to it, and according to her there would be times when he wouldn’t have a choice to get in the middle of a battle. But Leliana wasn’t here, and Cassandra had always taken his side during those discussions, seeing him only as a burden in combat - which was, objectively, true.

He sat in silence as everyone was preparing, looking pensively at the soldiers passing in front of him. Doubt was creeping in his mind. His only use was his glowing hand, and it wasn’t even something that was a part of him. Anyone with the mark would have been more useful than him. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t convince others to stop fighting, and he couldn’t even set foot outside without needing an escort, because he was so weak. His companions rightfully saw him as a burden, and did all the work by themselves. _ I shouldn’t have to dirty my hands_. Shouldn’t, maybe, but it was becoming clear that it wasn’t an option anymore.

“No need to skulk. They’ll be fine.” The voice of Harding pulled him out of his thoughts. The dwarf went and sat beside him, watching their small army get in motion. It was an impressive sight to behold - if you forgot about the part where they were going to _ kill_. Polished armor gleaming in the sunlight, Inquisition standards flying high in the wind of the valley, bows and swords sheathed, ready to serve their purpose.

“So… I take it being the symbol of the Inquisition isn’t exactly all sunshine and flowers, right?” she said, without taking her eyes off the troops in the camp.

He sighed. “I just think that it would be better if someone more suited than me had the job. Maybe Cassandra. She’s a good warrior, with a strong will and a force of character. And she is a human, and very pious. She would be ideal as the “Herald of Andraste”.”

“Perhaps, but by not being the Herald allows her more freedom in her actions. I don’t think she would be charging in battle if she had the mark. Or voicing her opinion so strongly. She would fear ruffling some feathers. So, in a sense, it’s thanks to you that she can be this way, and not be a slave to a title.”

He thought about it for a moment. Maybe she was right. But still, at least if he had been a soldier, he would have been able to hold his own in battle, and not be deadweight.

“Fighting isn’t everything. Look at me, I don’t fight, but I still am useful to the Inquisition,” she said. He must have spoken out loud.

He glanced at her. “You still have an armor, and are trained to avoid enemies and get out of sticky situations,” he answered. “I’ve never seen combat in my life before all of this.”

“Well- Okay, maybe I wasn’t the best example. Take Josephine instead. She’s a vital part of our cause, but doesn’t fight. Same for the smith, or the cooks - not everyone has to fight.”

“But _ they _ don’t have to go on the field to close rifts crawling with demons.” He felt weak. “Thank you for trying to get my spirits up. I fear my mind on the subject can’t be changed, unfortunately. How about we change topics? Tell me about you. How did you end up in the Inquisition?”

And so Ysa and Harding talked for the rest of the afternoon. They were regularly receiving reports from the battlefield. Things seemed to go their way. Finally, as the sun was getting low, familiar faces returned. Ysa’s face lit up when he saw that his companions were unscathed. They had blood on their clothes _ and on their hands_, but had sustained no major wound. He stood up and walked up to them, a big smile on his face.

“Cassandra! Varric! Solas! Alive and well, I see!” he said.

“That we are,” said Cassandra grimly. “Let me try to remove the blood for my armor, and then we can go to meet Mother Giselle. The Crossroads are safe now.”

He nodded, and waited patiently for them to clean up. Cassandra insisted that they do not meet with a Chantry mother with blood everywhere - and she was probably right, he thought. A few minutes later, they were ready, and departed for the settlement in the Crossroads. It was a quick walk to there - no more than fifteen minutes. He had taken a lantern from the advanced camp; even if they could still see in the light of the dying sun, it would most likely be dark when they returned.

_ Darkness is good_. _ At least this way he wouldn’t see too much of the slaughter, _he thought as they began climbing down towards the valley.


	4. The first allies of the Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying the story thus far!  
As always, don't hesitate to leave comments. I love to hear what you think :)

Even in the red light of the setting sun, Ysa’s keen eyes could see everything. The bodies of fallen allies and enemies, the dying breath of some who were unlucky enough to survive the initial assault. He focused his eyes on the path, trying not to think about the grim spectacle on the sides. They met no corpse on the road; the soldiers must have cleaned it up after the battle. What a horrible task it should have been, dragging the bodies of friends and foes alike - what if it was someone they knew? How could you see your friend, someone you’ve spent time with, shared a meal with - and see them dead on the floor, and having to get him out of the road like a simple obstacle?

How could any fighter be mentally sane? He looked at his companions. They had seen death, too, and although they seemed more serious than usual, they weren’t shocked at all. They almost seemed unphased by everything. Were they dead inside? They did not look dead inside at Haven. Were they dissociating in combat, burying the memories of battle deep inside their minds, never to be looked at again? Either way, it wasn’t a commendable fate.

It was only a swift walk until the Crossroads, and soon enough they arrived in view of the first undestroyed building. There were a few people in the street, and they turned their heads curiously, watching them arrive. Some cheered, but the mood wasn’t to celebration, and most looked tired.

“Come. The mother is by the makeshift infirmary, tending to the wounded,” said Cassandra, pointing to a tent down road to the left.

They followed her, and soon they could see the infirmary. It was a large open tent with beds inside, and many injured people - civilians and soldiers alike - were laying there, some even lying on the ground by lack of bedding. There were two nurses inside, as well as a woman dressed as a Chantry cleric - that would be Mother Giselle, Ysa thought. When she saw them arrive, she let one of the nurses tend to the man she was healing, and came to meet them.

Cassandra greeted her first. “Mother Giselle. Thank you for seeing us.”

The mother bowed her head, smiling. She turned to him and looked at him intently. “No, thank _ you _ for making the trip. It is an honor to meet you, Herald. I can’t thank you enough for securing the village. You saved us.”

_ Saving is as bad as killing. It is an insult to nature; for only she can decide when a life should or should not end. _ He chased the thought out of his mind. This was a potential ally, with ties to the Chantry, that could help them gather support. He had to indulge her.

“The honor is all mine, Mother Giselle. I am glad to see that all in the Chantry do not frown upon the Inquisition,” he replied, bowing and smiling at her too.

“You have to understand them. They are afraid. Every important member of the clergy was lost at the Conclave, and yet you live. They have no one to guide them, to unite them. Their only unity is through hating you.”

“But you don’t.”

“I see the Inquisition as a beacon of light against the growing darkness of the Breach. I see you,” she pointed at the mark on his hand, “as a sign that the Maker hasn’t abandoned us yet, and sent us help in our hour of need.”

“I hope they soon recover from this terrible blow. People need the uniting voice of the Chantry now more than ever,” he answered. It was Josephine who taught him that - the Maker and Andraste were worshipped by most humans all over Thedas, and even some non-humans, regardless of country. It was the only thing uniting them.

“Yes. That is why you should go and see them. What you have done here - liberating the Crossroads - is the first step on a path to heal the world. You are showing them that you are here to help, not to take their place. But they need to hear it from you. Sometimes, words are louder than actions.”

“I was told you could help us arranging a meeting with the clerics in Val Royeaux. We have been trying to contact them to arrange it ourselves, but they won’t talk to us, unfortunately.”

“Yes, I know clerics there who are willing to help. I will make the arrangements, but it should take a few days. In the meantime, you should keep on helping people, and make sure they know that the Inquisition is here for them.”

He nodded. “We are grateful for your help, Mother Giselle.” He looked at the wounded behind her, and the makeshift infirmary. “We have some room in Haven. Perhaps it would be better for everyone if your infirmary was moved there. We could probably help you relocate the patients.”

“That is a generous offer, Herald. We’ll be honored to work with the Inquisition.”

“I’ll have soldiers come for you to help relocating tomorrow morning, Mother,” said Cassandra. “Now, I think it is time for us to go back to our camp for the night. We will see you tomorrow.”

Mother Giselle bowed her head again. “I bid you goodnight, Herald, envoys of the Inquisition. Maker watch over you.”

Ysa bowed in return. “And over you, Mother Giselle. Stay safe.”

And with that, they left the Crossroads to climb back up to their camp. The sun had fully set now, and the only light was from the twin moons and the lantern Ysa was holding. As the light bearer, he walked in front of the group.

“I didn’t know you were such a sweet talker, Dreamy,” said Varric, breaking the silence. He could hear the smile in his voice. “You had this Chantry mother in the palm of your hand.”

“I didn’t have to do much,” he replied. “Our goals were aligned. I don’t think I will be able to convince the rest of the Chantry so easily.”

“Still, it is weird to see an elf - a Dalish elf, at that - have so much skill in politics,” said Cassandra. “Not that I am complaining. It will make a lot of things easier this way.”

“Thank you for your trust, Cassandra.” The dark and their formation made it easy for him to hide his surprise. He wasn’t expecting the Seeker to find him useful. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders. For the first time since waking up with the mark, he felt like he belonged. His pace got a bit faster; he felt lighter. They would heal the land and the sky, and he would help.

He was still in a good mood when arriving to the camp. He shared a tent with Solas, but the elf wasn’t here when he went to sleep. He didn’t think much of it - he was probably placing wards outside. Or maybe he was _ sleeping _ outside. After all, he didn’t have boots, so did he really need a tent? His thoughts drifted away as he fell asleep.

===

The left the camp the following morning and headed north towards master Dennet’s farm. They had several hours of walk ahead of them, and they planned on sleeping near the farms - a plan which required the farmers to still be alive and not dead to the hand of bandits or mages or templars. Even Cassandra now recognised that the templars were also crazed and blood-thirsty, and she wasn’t trying to convince them to stop attacking anymore.

They had agreed to try to avoid combat at all costs, but it hadn’t been easy. They had to get off the road several times to avoid being seen by groups of templars or mages, and had wasted precious time doing so. But they were only four, and it wasn’t too hard not to be noticed, even if they didn’t know the terrain well.

It was now in the middle of the afternoon and they were close to the farms - about one hour away. They were trekking in the woodlands. They hadn’t seen any sign of a mage or a templar in a while, and this part of the land seemed almost peaceful. Suddenly, he heard the noise of cracking branches, making his ear twitch. He froze, silently signaling his companions to stop. They were being watched.

“Well well well, what have we here?” The voice of a man came from somewhere behind the trees. He was clearly menacing, leaving no doubt about his intentions.

They looked around them, arms raised. Cassandra had moved in front of Ysa in a protective stance. “Show yourself!”, she shouted at the darkness.

A shadowy figure emerged from the treeline. He was a human, tall and black-haired, with scars crisscrossing on his skin. He was armed, and smirked menacingly at them. Varric immediately aimed at him.

“If I were you, I would lower my crossbow, _ dwarf. _ You don’t want my friends to shoot you dead, you and your little group,” said the bandit.

Ysa felt fear grow in his stomach. They were circled and probably outnumbered too. Even if they tried to run, it could end up badly for them. He looked around him, searching desperately for a way out. The trees were tall and the forest was dense; only on the road was there an opening. He gulped. That did not bode well. He heard the voices of Cassandra negotiating with the bandit. They wanted their riches, and weapons, and then maybe they would let them live. But they needed their weapons to survive, and the Seeker wasn’t the most diplomatic woman. The conversation was heating up, but their voices seemed to become more and more distant as his fear grew. He felt a jolt of adrenaline kick in as he heard bows being readied. They were going to shoot. He grabbed the Seeker by the arm and ran towards the forest.

“Run!” he shouted as loud as he could, and his scream resonated in his head. He was sprinting through the trees, going deeper and deeper into the forest. He heard the footsteps of his companions running after him. The forest was really thick, but not a single root or branch got in his way. It was as if the trees themselves were moving to let him pass - actually, he could have sworn he saw branches moving to get out of his way. They had been running for a few minutes now, and he risked a look behind him. Cassandra was right behind him, and then Solas, and then - he had to look twice to see him - Varric. There was no sign of the bandits behind them, as he _ felt _ the treeline close behind their group. He slowed down, trying to listen to the bandits’ footsteps, but the forest was muffling all sounds. He stopped and turned towards his companions. They stood in silence for a moment, everyone catching their breath.

“I think we lost them,” said Solas, who had been eyeing behind them since they had stopped. He put a hand on a tree. “It’s strange. It is as if the forest itself wanted us to be safe,” he said, looking intently at Ysa.

“Well, in that case, thanks, trees,” laughed Varric, visibly not taking it seriously.

“What should we do now?” asked Ysa, trying to ignore the looks Solas was giving him. He had felt the same way, but he couldn’t explain what happened.

“We go back to the road, and stay on our guard this time,” answered Cassandra. “Although we might need to climb a tree to know in which direction we should go.”

“This I can do,” said Ysa, with the same feeling of pride he felt each time he could be useful. He chose a tree with low hanging branches, and climbed up nimbly, swiftly disappearing into the leaves. He stopped once he was high enough to see above the woodlands, and looked for the gap in the trees. There it was, cutting the forest in half. He took note of its direction and climbed down to his companions.

“It’s that way,” he said, pointing to the direction he had seen the path. “We might want to check our position once in a while, though, it’s not easy to walk in a straight line in a forest.”

“Agreed,” said Cassandra. “You walk in front and take care that we don’t get lost. We’ll follow you and keep our ears and eyes peeled for danger.”

They walked in silence for a while, everyone slightly paranoid, jumping at every unexpected noise. After a while, Ysa spotted a clearing ahead.

“There is a clearing ahead,” he told the others after climbing down yet another tree. “We should probably avoid it, we would lose the cover of the trees there.”

“We’ll walk up to the clearing and then go around it,” said Cassandra. “This way we’ll see if there is anything - or anyone - in there. A clearing near the roads is a perfect place to set camp.”

Ysa frowned. Now was not the time to set camp. What was she thinking about? They slowed down as they neared the clearing. Cassandra signaled them to keep quiet. He listened carefully, and heard voices coming from behind the trees. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they didn’t seem alert. The Seeker turned towards them.

“I think it’s the camp of the bandits,” she whispered. “There are only two of them here. If we strike fast, they won’t stand a chance.”

“You can’t kill them like this,” said Ysa, baffled by her obvious lack of respect for life.

“They are bandits and they put innocent people in danger. They probably already killed. And for what? Just to satisfy their greed? The world would be better off without them, and this place would be safer,” she said, whispering back angrily.

Ysa looked behind her at the bandit camp. They weren’t expecting them. They were chatting together and laughing. It felt so _ wrong. _ But Cassandra was right, he knew it. They _ should _ get rid of the bandits - _ and who are you to decide who gets to live and who gets to die? _ It was that voice again. He spoke without thinking.

“You are right, they are unprepared, so it should be easy to capture them. And then we will task our men with taking them to the rightful authorities for trial.” There was nobility and assurance in his voice. He felt confident. The others nodded and prepared to ambush the bandits.

The fight lasted only a few seconds. One of the bandits was eating and didn’t even have the time to reach his weapon before he had been tackled down by Cassandra. Varric aimed at the other, daring him to make a move, and they quickly tied them up. There were some supplies in the camp; they took them, and destroyed the tents.

“There,” said Varric as he finished tearing down the last tent. “Those bastards won’t be able to camp here anymore. Speaking of which, we should get going. We don’t know when the others will come back. And…” he looked at their prisoners. “Now that I think about it, what are we going to do with them? They’re going to hinder us and the rest of our forces are a day’s walk away. A day’s walk into mages and templars territory, might I add.”

Ysa looked at the bandits thoughtfully. Varric had a point. “Maybe we could just tie them up to the trees? That way they won’t escape while our men come for them.”

“Dreamy, you’re… Alright, just think about it. Their friends are nearby and will probably find them before our men, free them, and boom the bandits are still a threat. Or, we hide them too well, nobody finds them, and boom they’re dead and you don’t want that, either.”

“Then we take them with us to Dennet’s farms. I’m sure he will have room to keep them. And it will only be until our forces arrive.”

“Sounds like the most reasonable option, I guess. Besides killing them, I mean. Which would be simpler and they deserve it.” Ysa glared angrily at him, and he shut up.

“Let’s go,” said Cassandra, bandits in tow. “The farm should be close now, and I want to be there before nightfall.”

===

It took them less than an hour to rejoin the path and arrive at Dennet’s. The road was uneventful; the prisoners made no attempt to leave, and they saw no sign of the rest of the bandits. Which was relieving, as Ysa wasn’t sure if he could be able to prevent any bloodshed if they crossed paths with them again.

Dennet’s farm was a large domain with several houses, barns and stables. They passed an orchard on their right, and climbed the paved path up to what looked, by the size of it, like the main house, up on a small hill. Cassandra had noticed a good place to make camp, and left them to mount the tents, taking the prisoners with her - seeing them with bandits in tow would probably not get Dennet a good first impression.

Ysa straightened his clothes and knocked politely on the door.

“Who’s there?” asked a voice from inside the house.

“We are envoys of the Inquisition. We came to speak with master Dennet,” he answered.

The door opened. A man was standing at the door frame, eyeing them suspiciously. Ysa put on a polite smile.

“Greetings,” he said, bowing. “My name is Ysa. I am the Herald of the Inquisition.”

The man looked at his hand and relaxed a bit. “Good evening, Inquisition. I received messages telling me that you would come, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. The roads aren’t safe these days.” He moved out of the doorway. “Please come in, we were about to make dinner.”

They came inside the house. It was as big inside as it looked outside: there was a nice living room with a table large enough for ten people to sit at, and a kitchen on the left. A fireplace kept the living room warm despite the cool air outside. They hung their coats near the door and sat at the table. Dennet brought mugs for everyone and uncorked a bottle of beer, serving them before sitting in front of them.

“So, Inquisition… I’ve heard about your efforts to stabilise the region and bring peace. I’d like to help. Were I younger, I would have grabbed my sword and enlisted as a soldier, but…” he stretched, and it was obvious he was a bit stiff, “I’m not in the right shape for that anymore. However, I would happily lend you horses, although I can’t.”

Ysa frowned. “You can’t?”

“Well, you’ve been on the road between here and Haven. Don’t tell me you didn’t have to battle your way through. The road passes in the middle of the battlefield for the war between mages and templars, although from what I’ve heard you’ve already calmed them down. And there are all sorts of bandits prowling around, taking advantage of the situation to prey on helpless civilians.”

“Yes, we met some of them, and took care of them. But I understand your concern,” tried Ysa. “What degree of security would you need to send us horses?”

“We’ll discuss the terms when everyone’s here, Herald. Dinner will be served soon,” answered Dennet with a smile.

“Alright. Oh - we intend on camping near your farm. We spotted a nice place near the river. Can we settle there?” It would probably have been better to ask _ before _ setting camp, though.

“Of course. Is it just the three of you? How many are you? We may be able to accomodate you inside the house,” he answered.

“We don’t mean to intrude. We are six, but we could maybe use this camp as an advanced outpost of the Inquisition. This way we could have an easier time securing the region, and it would offer some protection to your farm, too.”

Dennet stayed silent for a moment. “Very well, you can use this spot. There’s nothing there, anyway.”

A delicious smell was coming from the kitchens. Their stomachs growled; they realised they hadn’t eaten a proper meal since they left in the morning, relying on snacks along the way. Soon, the other farm workers came in, greeting them and joining them at the table. It was only Dennet, his wife Elaina, their daughter Seanna, and their farmhand Bron. Then dinner was served by Elaina, and they ate together, discussing the future of the Hinterlands.

They were relieved to learn that the bandits had been - at least partly - deterred, and asked three more things before they sent their horses to the Inquisition.

Firstly, Bron asked that they build watchtowers around the farm, to secure the place. That sounded like a reasonable demand; Dennet couldn’t leave them unprotected.

Secondly, Elaina asked they get rid of the wolves that plagued the land. According to her, they acted as if they were possessed, but Ysa couldn’t tell if she was serious, or if she was exaggerating. Still, he agreed to look into it - if the wolves threatened horses and humans alike, there certainly was something wrong.

Finally, Dennet asked that they wait for the Inquisition forces to end the menace of the civil war along the road - it would take a few days, but they were already on it, so he agreed, too.

After the dinner, Dennet led them outside to the stables, and gave them horses that they could use while securing the Hinterlands. Ysa’s horse was a mare with a bay coat, named Soleilla. She was restless and fast to respond to commands - sometimes with a little too much enthusiasm. He liked her nonetheless. They thanked the horse master, and parted ways with him as they went to their camp for the night.

“Ysa… Can I talk with you for a moment?” asked Solas as they were going to bed. They once again shared the same tent, though this time Solas seemed aware of it, as he was inside and not sleeping somewhere else.

“Of course, Lethallin. What did you want to talk about?” He actually liked his companions, and Solas was one he didn’t have many occasions to talk with. He was usually busy enough to have a reason to avoid him, and proved quite secretive about his own person.

“This afternoon, when we were fleeing the bandits… you saw the trees move, right?”

His heart skip a beat. Then it wasn’t just his imagination.

“I did,” he answered after a moment. “I wasn’t sure of what I was seeing at first - but I had the same impression as you.”

Solas looked at him, as if he was looking for an answer on his face.

“It almost felt as if they were making way for you,” he said.

Confusion gained him. “Trees aren’t supposed to move,” he replied. Surely he wasn’t implying that not only they did move, but they did because he made them leave his path.

Solas tilted his head pensively. “They can, if the right person asks them to.”

“I don’t remember _ asking them. _ And it’s the first time something like this happens to me, anyway. I really think we were just stressed, and we imagined things.”

“Really? I read Cassandra’s report, Ysa. About the day we brought you to the Breach. It says she found you in a tree after a battle, with a dead demon on the ground. When she asked you how it died, you said that it somehow fell from the tree while trying to climb. But demons can’t fall - at least they can't suffer injury from falling.”

_ Demons can’t fall. _ Solas’ words echoed in his head. For a moment he said nothing, stunned by the revelation. Then what he thought he had seen that day… was also real?

“The demon… it didn’t fall. It grabbed the tree to climb, and the tree-- threw it away. I was scared and confused and I really thought it fell,” he said precipitately.

Solas smiled. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Lethallin. If anything, you having such powers would be a good thing, albeit very mysterious. Only once in my life have I heard of someone who could bend the trees to his will.”

He thought about it. It was too much to be mere coincidence, but he also hadn’t seen enough to be sure of it yet.

“In that case - _ if _ what you say is true, and I can… make the trees obey me, can you- will you- teach me?” he asked, almost stammering. Solas seemed to know a great deal about many things, especially magic and ancient things, so he should be able to give him some help. And he really wanted to learn.

“I may be able to help you channel your power in the right direction, but I cannot teach you. It is not a power that I share, nor have I had the occasion to study it up close.” _ God of lies. _ “However, I will do everything I can to aid you. But I fear it won’t be much. You will have to do most of the journey on your own.”

“Whatever advice you can give me is still more than figuring everything myself. I wonder, who is it you knew that had this power? Can I meet him? Or is he a mage of old? I’ve never heard such legends before.”

“I saw him in the fade, nothing more. He was…” Ysa looked at him expectantly, but Solas seemed to change his mind. “No matter who he was. He is dead now, his name forever lost to legend.”

From what he knew of the other elf, their discussion would not go anywhere else. He had learned little about him, but it was still more than what he knew before.

“Maybe tomorrow we can try to see if you actually have such a power,” Solas spoke again, surprisingly. He sounded really curious about this potential power of him; and he had to admit that he was, too. Perhaps looking into it would help him recover his memory.

“Yes, I would like that,” he answered. “Good night, Solas.”

“Good night, Lethallin.”


	5. Of wolves, demons, and other night prowlers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the weekend! Enjoy a new chapter!

Ysa lied in bed for what seemed like hours. Thoughts were swirling in his head and try as he might, he couldn’t sleep. The weight of what Solas had just revealed to him was heavy, and made him wonder what he had been before losing his memories, before being taken in by clan Lavellan.

And what of the voice he sometimes heard in his thoughts? It felt as if it was his, but at the same time not really his. It had called Solas a liar when they were talking - when he had told him that he didn’t have the power to command to trees, and neither could he ever studied it. It was probably not the former, or he would have used it before. Then, did it mean that this person he knew of that had this particular power - did he personally know him? Was that the reason he didn’t want to talk about him? If he was his friend, and he died, then he could understand why he wouldn’t want to remember him. Maybe it was too painful - even though, he thought, remembering friends that passed away is a way of honoring them. But not everyone honored the dead the same way, and he should respect his wishes and not ask him about his friend anymore. _ If _ he was actually his friend. It was quite a stretch to think that.

He turned on his bed, facing his sleeping companion. Come to think of it, he knew nothing of his past. He had supposed that he grew up in an alienage, but the absence of a vallaslin on his face was his only clue. He seemed neither a Dalish nor a city elf. What kind of friends someone like that could have had? He frowned. Didn’t he say the had only _ heard _ of someone with his powers? Then it couldn’t have been a friend. Then why did he refuse to tell him about him?

He tossed and turned again, unable to find sleep. Eventually, he gave up and silently got up and left the tent, trying not to wake Solas up. The stars were shining bright in the sky, and their campfire was no more than glowing embers. Everyone was asleep, and the only noise he could hear was the cascading whisper of the river nearby. He walked to the water, feeling the grass under his bare feet. It was a cold, but pleasant touch, and for a moment he appreciated why the other elf never put on shoes. Reaching the river, he spotted a nice rock and sat on it, contemplating the water rushing down the stream, mesmerised.

Then, a thought hit him. He didn’t need Solas to check his theory. He just had to walk to a tree and try to talk to it, right? And then he would know for sure. He stood up from his rocky seat, and walked up to the nearby orchard. Arriving near the trees, he stopped and put his hand against the bark of one of them. Looking at it, he tried to speak.

“Hello, tree. Can you hear me? If you can hear me, move your branches,” he said to the tree. He felt like a total fool. He was glad everyone was sleeping.

The tree didn’t react to his presence, however. Contradictory feelings of relief and disappointment rushed to him. Then he wasn’t-

“They are sleeping. They won’t answer you,” said a voice behind him. He jumped and suddenly turned around, finding himself face to face with Solas.

“S-Solas! I’m sorry I woke you up,” he whispered, trying to calm down. He wasn’t expecting him to be awake, and he really surprised him.

Solas chuckled. “You worry loudly, Lethallin. I can hear you from the Fade.” He blushed profusely, embarrassed. He probably should ask to change tents. Varric might snore, but at least he couldn’t _ read his feelings while asleep. _

“You should try to get some sleep,” he continued. “We can try this tomorrow when it’s daytime. Or at another, more favorable time. I will show you how to proceed, but we need a calm environment. Maybe back at Haven would be wiser.”

“I’m not sure I can survive the anticipation for that much time,” replied Ysa, laughing nervously.

Solas put a hand on his shoulder. “Think rationally. It wouldn’t affect you to know now or in two days. You need to learn to control your emotions.” He was right. He couldn’t let himself be affected by that. He felt a wave of calm wash over him. Oddly, he felt like it originated from his shoulder where his companion’s hand was placed. His hand was as warm as the calm he felt inside himself now.

“You’re right, Solas. Thank you for your counsel. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He bowed his head and retreated back to their shared tent. He fell asleep before Solas came back.

===

_ He had an odd dream that night. Talking plants that walked on their roots crowned him king, and they would wage a war against the humans for him, and then every human, elf, qunari and dwarf was killed but him, for he was the king of the plants, and they ate human flesh - and he, too, because he was a plant too, and had vines instead of his arms and roots instead of legs. And then they had conquered all of Thedas, and marched towards the rest of the world, and he saw a wolf - a huge wolf, as tall as a tree, with fur as black as a starless night, and seven red eyes glowing in the dark, all staring at him. He felt dread filling him, and ordered his vegetal soldiers to kill the beast, but they could not best him - and one by one, they fell under the powerful jaws of the demonic beast, and then he was alone, facing the wolf, and he was looking at him, and he knew that he was next, and - _

He woke up suddenly, sitting up in his bed, panting and sweating. His heart was beating fast, he felt as if he had just ran. So much for resting. Solas was still asleep next to him, but he could see the light of the day filter through their tent. He dressed himself and left.

Outside, he saw Cassandra and Varric. The Seeker was checking on their prisoners, while Varric was cooking breakfast. He greeted them and went to the river to wash up. He undressed and put his clothes on the rock where he had been sitting the previous night. The water was ice cold, but he hated feeling sweaty, and forced himself in the water, fully submerging his body. The cold washed up his doubts and the remainder of his dreams; he felt awake at last. He scrubbed his long hair, trying to get as much dirt out of them as he could while not turning them into a tangled mess. He should probably braid them if he wanted to keep them this long. They reached his waist, long straight golden locks glimmering in the morning sun. He was quite proud of it. He left the water, using a cloth to dry up, and dressed up again before joining his companions.

“Feel better, Dreamy?” asked Varric as he saw him come back. “Breakfast is served if you’d like.” He offered him a porridge bowl, which Ysa accepted gratefully. Porridge didn’t taste great, but he was hungry, and they had a long day ahead of them.

“We should probably wake up Solas,” said Cassandra, joining them. “We must leave soon.”

Ysa finished his bowl and stretched. “You’re right, Cassandra. I’ll wake him up.” He got up, putting his bowl on the ground near the others, and walked up to their tent.

“Solas?” he asked, opening the tent. The light of the sun fell on his peaceful face. He stirred and turned to hide away from the sun.

“What is it?” he growled. He was definitely not happy to be woken up.

“It’s morning. We should be moving soon. We must investigate the wolves problem and scout the places for the watchtowers today. We shouldn’t delay,” he answered calmly.

Solas moved again, emerging from under the covers. His eyes were wide open now.

“Of course. I’m sorry I wasn’t up yet; you shouldn’t have to wake me.” His mask of peaceful indifference was back on. The sight of him buried under his covers, growling dangerously at anyone who would disturb him, made him smile. He picked up his comb near his bed and left the tent, letting Solas get ready.

“It’s done,” he brightly announced the others, comb in hand. “We should be ready to leave soon.”

He combed and braided his hair while the others finished preparing. Varric eyed him oddly.

“I know elves are usually effeminate, but seeing you with a braid is still kind of disturbing,” he told Ysa.

He laughed at his remark. “You’ll get used to it, Varric. Braids are not girly. They’re practical. I don’t want to spend hours a day untangling my hair like I did this morning - nor do I want it getting in my face when we get in a fight.”

“Of course,” answered Varric, grinning. “I was just noticing, is all.”

They were interrupted by Solas who had just left his tent.

“I’m ready to leave,” he said. He was fully dressed, and was already fastening his staff to his back. The other two got up and called to Cassandra, who was preparing the horses a little further.

“Oy Seeker, we’re ready,” shouted Varric. She turned around and beckoned them to come. They joined her, Varric picking up his crossbow Bianca.

“We’ll take the horses today,” she said as they arrived. “We’ll have to be extra careful near the wolves, we don’t want them to be harmed. But they will be very useful when we’ll tour the farm to spot watchtower sites.”

“What of the prisoners, Cassandra? Should we let them here?” asked Ysa.

“Yes. I arranged with master Dennet. He will make sure they don’t escape or cause any trouble. I sent a raven to Harding; we should get reinforcements late this afternoon. They dispatched a few men to secure the place.”

He nodded; that sounded wise. He got to his horse and mounted up. “Let’s go, then. Elaina said that the wolves’ den should be somewhere in the west.”

And so they departed and rode west through the pale green fields of the Hinterlands. The terrain was rocky and uneven, and they often had to deviate from their path to avoid obstacles in their way. After a couple of hours of ride, they head a howling.

“Do you hear that?” asked Ysa, stopping his horse. The others stopped beside him.

“It came from over there,” pointed Solas. They looked in the direction he was pointing at. They couldn’t see anything behind the trees, but a new howl answered the first one, this time coming from behind them.

“They have circled us. Get ready to fight,” said Cassandra, getting off her horse. They followed her lead, and soon they were in formation, back to back, with Ysa in the middle. Solas was maintaining a magical barrier over them. Everyone was scanning the treeline for movement.

After a few moments of waiting, the first wolf jumped out of the shadows and ran to Varric. He was going for the throat. Knowing he was safe behind Solas’ shield, the dwarf didn’t try to dodge, instead aiming at the wolf and firing a bolt point-blank at it. The beast let out a whimper and was stopped dead in its tracks, its now inanimate body falling on Varric. Cassandra grabbed him and helped him get back on his feet, before quickly raising her shield to stave off the assault of another wolf.

There were three wolves in total, all crazed for blood and attacking recklessly. Ysa frowned; this wasn’t normal wolf behavior. Wolves are territorial, maybe, but not suicidal. Elaina was right, something was terribly wrong with the beasts.

“Let’s continue,” said Cassandra after rapidly cleaning up her blade. “We must be close now.” The others agreed, and they mounted back on their horses, resuming their trail.

“The farmers were right. The wolves did seem to be possessed,” said Solas.

“What possessed them? Demons? I thought only mages could be possessed,” asked Ysa.

The other elf chuckled. “Everyone can be possessed, unless they were trained to avoid it. Animals are easier to possess than humans, lacking willpower and ego. We might even be facing a single demon, who would have been able to possess the whole pack.”

“The whole pack? Alone?” His eyebrows shot up. That was quite a shock to hear. He didn’t know demons were that powerful.

“Yes, and it might not even be a powerful demon. A powerful one would have possessed humans instead. They are more useful,” replied Solas, visibly amused at Ysa’s surprise.

“Maybe it’s trying to lure us, to possess us. How do you know if you are being possessed?” he asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice and make if pass off as pure curiosity.

“I won’t let that happen, Herald,” said Cassandra firmly.

Solas smiled and answered his question anyway. “It depends on the degree of possession. It ranges from the demon controlling your every movement to it simply coexisting in your body. In the first case, you’d be trapped inside your own head, unable to escape; in the second, you would only have hints, like thoughts that aren’t your own, or moments where you don’t control your body, or even missing memories from times when the demon was controlling you.”

He froze on his saddle. _ Wait. _ “Is… Is there any other… symptoms?” he asked, this time really failing to hide his worry. This had not escaped the others, who shot him curious looks.

“Herald, with all due respect, you’re not possessed. There are a lot of reasons why you could have lost your memories. May I remind you that so far, you’ve spent about two weeks meeting daily with templars, whose primary job is to detect and fight demons and possessions?” Cassandra’s words eased his worries a little. It was true that if he actually was possessed, they should have noticed it.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” argued Varric. “During my time in Kirkwall I knew someone who was possessed by a spirit. The spirit didn’t entirely possess him, it was more like they were sharing his body as Solas said. And none of the templars saw it. Until he blew up a Chantry, that is to say.”

Cassandra glared at the dwarf. “Your companion _ knew _ that he was possessed. It isn’t the same thing.”

“Well, yeah,” answered Varric with a laugh, “I’m just saying that your beloved templars aren’t infaillible.” He shot her a smile, which only widened as she scowled at him.

Ysa tried to reason with himself and stop worrying. The thoughts in his head that he felt weren’t his were probably his, and not a demon’s. And what would be the theoretical demon’s intentions if there really was one? What would he gain from possessing him? He didn’t try anything - at least not that he remembered. And he had all of his memories since he fell off the Breach.

They kept on riding while he was lost in thought. The terrain was becoming less and less practicable with each step of their mounts, and soon they couldn’t progress anymore.

“We must dismount. Ysa, stay here and guard the horses,” ordered Cassandra.

Ysa nodded. He wouldn’t be much use anyway. He climbed off his horse and took the reins of the others’. His companions drew their weapons and entered carefully into the woods.

He waited silently, all ears, on the lookout for any abnormal sound or sight. After many long minutes, he finally heard the rustling of branches, sign that his companions were coming back. He stretched and went to welcome them.

“You’re back! Did you find the demon?” he shouted. But there was no answer. Nothing, save for a low growl. It wasn’t his friends. It was a wolf, and he had no means of defending himself.

_ Crap, _ he muttered, and he screamed for help, recoiling as fast as he could, until his back bumped into one of the horses. The animal’s ears were up and she seemed stressed. She neighed and began to back off as the wolf slowly appeared from behind the cover of the trees, eyes fixated on him, prowling. He remembered his dream, and his terror when the seven-eyed wolf appeared before him. Granted, this one was smaller, but it was very real, and he wasn’t a plant-king with a plant-army.

He began thinking really fast. He didn’t know if the others had heard him, but even if they had, they wouldn’t come back before several minutes. He had to find a way to survive. Maybe now was a good time to test Solas’ theory - after all, there were lots of trees around him. Surely one of them would come to his aid. He raised a hand, his feelings too overwhelmed by panic to feel stupid.

“Help me!” he shouted to the trees around him. “Take it down! Don’t let it eat me!” He tried to call to the trees, but nothing happened. The wolf, visibly annoyed by his screaming, pounced on him without a word of warning. Ysa jumped to his left to try and dodge the assault of the beast, landing on the ground. He quickly recovered, recoiling again in the face of the wolf who was preparing another assault. _ It’s possessed, _ he thought. If only there was a way to un-possess it. _ Or to possess it back. _

This time, he didn’t have time to dodge, and the beast tackled him, pinning him to the ground under its weight. _ Stop. _ He felt its foul breath on his face, but the wolf didn’t strike. It was like frozen; something was happening behind its red eyes. He didn’t let the beast’s moment of hesitation go to waste, and shove it off him, getting up again. His whole body was shaking.

He heard muffled sounds from behind him. “Ysa! Is everything alright? We heard shouting!” said the familiar voice of Solas.

He didn’t take his eyes off the wolf, who was standing still in front of him, looking at him.

“_ Leave. Now, _” he said in a trembling voice. The wolf obeyed and turned around, disappearing back in the forest. He was too shocked to care.

“Is it me or did you just order this wild wolf around as if it were a mabari, Dreamy?” asked Varric. His friends had reached him, and looked at him with worry.

“It’s just a normal wolf reaction to leave when outnumbered. He stopped attacking me when you killed the demon, that’s what we wanted, right? Tell me that’s what happened,” he pleaded, still trembling, tears appearing in his eyes. _ What is happening? What’s wrong with me? _ He thought, and this time he knew he was the one thinking this.

“I’m sorry, Dreamy, we didn’t kill the demon yet. We turned around when we heard you scream. We really feared we would be too late, so I’m relieved to see you unscratched,” answered Varric. He didn’t look relieved at all, and neither were the others.

Ysa fell to his knees; his legs refused to support him any longer. “Then why?” his voice was but a whisper now. His companions stayed silent.

“I fear nobody here has the answer,” said Solas softly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “We can study it back at Haven. It is likely that your own memories hold all the answers you seek.”

“In the meantime, we’re kind of not in a good place to take a nap, so we ought to go,” added Varric, offering him a hand. He took it gratefully, getting back up. He tried to push all of his feelings aside; he was right when he said now was not the time for this.

“I’ll stay with him to ensure this sort of incident doesn’t happen again, Seeker. You go with Varric and finish what we’ve started,” said Solas.

Cassandra nodded and left in silence. She didn’t glance at Ysa even once. He felt a ball of anxiety rise up in his chest.

“Deep breaths, Lethallin,” said Solas next to him. His voice was soft but its softness felt hollow. The same hollow as Leliana’s sweet words when she wanted something out of him. Why was he thinking so negatively? They were his friends. At least he thought they were his friends. He thought about the coldness of Cassandra again, and a shiver ran down his spine. He took a deep breath. He would take the time to unwind later. Unless they decided he was a demon and killed him, that is. At least he won’t have so many questions when he’s dead. Or so many feelings.

He sat on the ground. Solas was studying him silently, he could feel his eyes on him. Maybe he could beg him to protect him. He seemed fond of demons. He folded his legs and rested his head on his knees. The adrenaline of the encounter with the wolf was slowly leaving him, and he felt exhausted. He closed his eyes and focused on his breath. Soon everything would be over, one way or another. He would either have answers or be dead. Which wasn’t exactly a comforting thought.

“How about we try now, Ysa?”

Solas’ question pulled him out of his thoughts. Try what? His confusion must have been visible, because Solas immediately clarified.

“Try to see if you can control the trees. I wouldn’t do it in front of the Seeker, but she is gone now. And it would probably give you some peace of mind to know for sure,” he offered with a smile.

“I’ll take anything that can take my mind off what just happened, to be honest with you,” he answered weakly. He slowly got up. He was still really tired.

“Alright,” he replied, scanning the trees around them. “Let’s try with this one.” The tree he chose was a birch tree, neither young nor old.

“Why did you choose this one?”

Solas smiled. “The one who had this power - he said those kinds of trees were the easiest to talk to.”

“Okay. Does it help if I touch it? I feel like I should touch it, but I really don’t know.” He sighed. “I feel so ridiculous.”

“You’re not ridiculous. You’re testing a hypothesis. There’s nothing ridiculous in the search for knowledge,” he scolded him with a serious tone. “As for your question, I think it can’t be bad to touch it, if you feel like it. Remember I don’t have all the answers.”

“On this topic, maybe,” he answered, laughing a little. Solas had a way with words that always managed to convince him. Maybe someday he would ask him to teach him how to be as persuasive as him. He put his right hand against the soft bark of the tree, and felt it under his skin. He closed his eyes, trying to reach it with his mind. He could almost feel a pulse.

“Good,” said Solas in a low voice. “Now, try to convey your intentions to it. You’re not asking the tree to act; you’re acting through it.”

_ But the tree is alive. It’s not right to act in its stead. _ Was it him or the other voice? He opened his eyes, the thought breaking his concentration. Solas frowned at him, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Focus, Lethallin.”

He nodded and closed his eyes again. If the tree really was alive, then he could just ask. He felt as if his soul touched the tree’s - or was it what mages called an aura? - and asked gently.

“_ Please, move, _” he heard himself whisper in elvhen. He felt a quake under his hand and shot his eyes open, taking a step back. In front of him, he saw the tree jolt. Its branches were moving, as if an invisible gust of wind was suddenly passing through them. And he saw, and this time he was sure of what he was seeing, the roots of the tree slowly twist, and move, snaking in and out of the ground as the tree was gliding away from him.

He looked at Solas in awe, and saw the satisfied smile on his face, the same face a proud teacher would make when his student finally grasps a new concept.

“Congratulations, Ysa. It seems like I was right,” he said proudly.

“Indeed… Then I’m a… What am I? I thought you said I’m not a mage.”

“That is a sort of magic. An ancient and forgotten magic, but still magic. The main difference is that you don’t draw from the Fade, but from your life essence itself.”

“My life essence? Like blood magic?”

“It _ is _ a form of blood magic. Blood magic can serve many purposes, unlike what the Chantry would have you believe. Abuse it, however, and you’ll die of exhaustion - or worse,” he warned.

He thought about it for a moment. “Then, if it’s blood magic, would it be more powerful if I made a sacrifice? Like cut my hand or something?”

Solas frowned. “Perhaps. But you shouldn’t try to. At least not before you have already mastered the basics of your power. And that will take years, especially without a proper teacher, which I cannot be.”

He nodded. “Of course. I was just curious. This is all very new to me. What should we tell the others, though?”

“Let’s keep this a secret, at least while you can’t use it properly yet. Yes, the templars were unable to realise that you are a mage, but some people - trained mages who already used blood magic, for example - might see your magic for what it is if you were to cast it in front of them, and blood magic is very frowned upon, if not outlawed, in all of Thedas. I don’t think a lot of people would react positively to the news. Only use it wisely - out of sight, or in desperate situations. And _ never tell anyone _ that it’s blood magic. As long as you don’t bleed yourself to cast spells, most won't recognise it.”

“Understood. Will you train me, at least for now?”

“Yes. I will teach you as much as I can. There are things that are common to all magics, even one as peculiar as yours. Being able to use a form of blood magic without blood is rare; and being able to use a form of blood magic without having access to the Fade is beyond rare, if not unheard of.”

“Thank you, Solas,” he said with a smile. Despite what the news represented, he was grateful to at least know a little more about himself. And, with luck, he would be able to learn more about Solas too in the following weeks. He returned to the horses and stroke the fur of Soleilla. His stomach growled; it would soon be time for lunch. He laughed out loud.

“So many things happened and it’s not even noon yet,” he said, answering the silent question of Solas who had raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to go through the rest of the day without sleeping for at least eight hours.” He laughed again. He felt giddy. And tired. And scared. If “his” magic was supposed to be impossible, then maybe it wasn’t his. Maybe he really was coexisting with a demon in his body. A powerful demon, able to mind control trees and wolves, and to hide away from templars and trained mages alike. That thought was both terrifying and felt so unreal that he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about it.


	6. A crash course in magic

Taking care of the rest of the possessed wolves took Cassandra and Varric an hour, and it was noon when they came back. Ysa had spent the hour resting, and discussing magic with Solas. He mostly lectured him about the health dangers of abusing his magic, and how to handle the others if they were to discover it. According to him, it was very likely that the sudden change in behavior of the wolf that attacked him was due to his magic, and that it explained his exhaustion - animals are way harder to control than plants, and he was, after all, untrained.

The Seeker was still distant and refused to meet his gaze. Varric, on the other hand, was glad to see that he recovered from his earlier shock, even if he seemed a bit awkward in his presence. He would come around, thought Ysa. He hoped Cassandra would start being friendly again, too, but he feared it would only get worse, as he intended on training and using his magic. How the hell would he manage to fool warriors with anti-magical training about the nature of his power? He shuddered.

They ate lunch while Varric described what happened in the wolves’ den. Apparently they found a terror demon there, along with the stronger wolves of the pack. They attacked them all at once, and it would have been a difficult fight if Varric hadn’t managed to heroically shoot a bolt through the heart of the demon. At least that’s what he said, and while Cassandra was shooting him murderous glances, she didn’t speak to contradict him. Anyway, the wolves problem was now solved, and they could now focus on mapping the lands around the farm to spot the watchtowers locations indicated by Bron.

Touring the farmlands ended up being a nice afternoon ride, with no bandit in sight. As they returned to the camp for the night, they were pleased to see that a detachment of Inquisition forces had come to man the camp, which was now looking more like an outpost and less like a hiking spot. Varric, Solas and Ysa once again ate dinner at Dennet’s, while Cassandra prefered to stay with the men in the camp. She was still refusing to acknowledge his presence unless it was unavoidable. He felt bad about it; he had grown fond of her, and he didn’t want to lose a friend over something as silly as him using an unknown power to save his own life.

“Don’t look so down, Dreamy.” Varric’s voice derailed his train of thoughts. “You won’t find solutions in your plate, especially if your food is cold,” he said with a grin.

He was right; he had barely touched his supper. He looked at him apologetically and began eating.

“You shouldn’t worry too much about Cassandra. She just needs time to take in the news,” continued the dwarf. “You know that she sees you as this holy figure sent by the Maker. You being a mage is quite a shock to her. Especially because she was unable to see it. And because she feels like you hid it from her.”

“But even _ I _ didn't even know that I had magic before what happened today!” he said, raising his voice. It felt so unfair.

“I know, Dreamy,” replied the dwarf with a sad smile. “But you can’t expect someone who has been taught all her life to distrust mages not to be wary around one.”

He nodded in silence. He hoped she would remember that his magic didn’t change who he was. He took a mental note to prove to her that he was still trustworthy.

===

They came back to Haven the day after. The road was safer now; Inquisition troops had found the remaining bandits of the forest and had taken care of them, and the frontline of the mage-templar war had receded away from roads and villages. They didn’t encounter any problem on their trip back.

The first thing Ysa did once back in Haven was to get out of his armor. He hated how the leather restricted his movements, even if it was only a little. Maybe now that he was “a mage” he could keep going around in robes.  _ And be killed by the first arrow shot at him. _ Maybe he should keep the armor. From what he had guessed, mages like Solas need to move a lot when casting spells, and that was why any sort of restriction to their movements was to be avoided at all cost. But he didn’t exactly had to dance around to get the tree to move - even if he had to touch it - so he should probably keep the armor. And actually, he would be unable to cast a spell in battle in his state. It required too much focus to do it and there was no way he could focus like that with people fighting around him. Speaking of which, he would have to ask Solas about his training.

He left his quarters and strolled through Haven, greeting all the people he knew. They were all glad to see him back, and exchanged a few words. Would they change their attitude if they knew he was a mage? He shook his head. Not now, he thought, and chased off any negative thoughts of his mind. Now was the time to talk to friends he hadn’t seen in a few days. Go to the tavern, drink something, maybe play music. Happy music, this time.  _ Yes, that would do, _ he said to himself, and walked towards the tavern.

He was intercepted by a running servant.

“Your Worship!” hailed the elf, out of breath. “I’m really sorry to interrupt, but lady Josephine asked for you at the war council.”

Ysa stopped and looked at her, a frown on his face. Were they already summoning a war council? They had only been back for a night. “Very well. I’ll go and meet them right away,” he answered, and changed his course to go to the Chantry building.

Despite not worshipping the Maker, he quite liked the calm atmosphere of the Chantry, the dim lights and the hushed litanies. It made him feel at peace. He passed through the main hall and walked to the door to the back room. For once, he didn’t hear the four arguing. They welcomed him with smiles.

“Ysa, thank you for coming on such a short notice,” said Josephine as a greeting. “We are organising the meeting with the Chantry in Val Royeaux.”

“Of course, Josephine,” he answered politely. “What would you need of me?”

“Well, as you are probably aware now, Chantry politics are quite the snake pit, and we were thinking of briefing you on what to say and not to say, and how to behave. Please don’t get me wrong - I do not think you incompetent, but human politics are…”

He shot her a reassuring smile. “It is true that I didn’t exactly have the occasion to play this sort of power games in my Dalish clan,” he replied. Or, maybe he had, but either way he didn’t remember it, so why waste time denying it? “And I also understand that me being an elf might affect what people think of me. Hence the need to polish my appearance.”

She looked relieved. A small tension that he hadn’t noticed earlier eased from the room. Were they all afraid that he took it personally? He didn’t think he passed off as someone who let his ego get the better of him.

“I’m glad that you understand the need to leave a good impression. Now, there’s just one thing we have to discuss before-”

“Cassandra told us that you might be a mage,” interrupted Leliana. His heart sank. He looked at Cassandra, who was still avoiding his gaze. “While this may be useful on the battlefield, it won’t help if the Chantry knows. With the mage rebellion, the people’s distrust of mages is at an all-time high. I’ll have to ask you to refrain from using your magic - at least while we gain the trust of everyone. Once they trust us, I suppose you can come out to the public as a mage, and they shouldn’t react too badly.”

“Wouldn’t hiding it make things worse?” he asked, dubious. Being a mage was bad enough for his reputation; should he really give them a reason to call him a liar, too?

“Don’t worry, Herald, if the Inquisition ever reaches a point where it has gained the trust of Thedas, I’m sure Josie will find a way to smoothly inform the Chantry and the nobility of your nature,” she answered with a grin. Next to her, Josephine sighed.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, let’s focus on Val Royeaux, shall we?” said the Antivan. “The Orlesian capital is a four days ride from here, passing through the Frostbacks. We will send Cassandra with you; as the right hand of the former Divine she is held in high regard by the Chantry. The road is safe, so you shouldn’t need an escort. The meeting is planned in five days, so you’ll have to leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, already?”

“Yes,” she answered sheepishly. “We can’t afford to waste anymore time than we already have explaining to the people that we’re here to help. We need to get this sorted as soon as possible.”

The idea of being on the road again so soon wasn’t exactly to his liking, but he would make do. He had hoped to stay at least a few days in Haven before departing - he needed to get some magic lessons from Solas.

“Is only Cassandra coming with me? Can Varric and Solas come too?” he asked the ambassador.

“You won’t need them, but I guess you can ask them. Why would you want them to come?”

“I need Solas to… keep my magic in check. And Varric is simply good company,” he answered.

Josephine smiled. It was a genuine smile this time, not a polite one. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to separate you from your friends.” She turned to the others. “I think we’ve discussed everything we needed to discuss with you. You’re free to leave, Ysa. Don’t forget to get ready for your departure tomorrow. And to notify the others if you want them to come.”

He nodded and bowed. “See you later, friends,” he said, before leaving the room.

This new schedule was cutting short his plans to go to the tavern. He had to find Solas to ask him to agree to teach him magic while on the road to Val Royeaux, and do so as soon as possible. He walked to the apostate’s house and found him leaning on a wall, looking at him, as if he were expecting him. When he saw him arrive, he straightened up.

“Lethallan. Are you ready for your first lesson?” he asked bluntly. It took him by surprise.

“Ehm… Well, yes, I was coming to see you to ask you if you would teach me, actually. I also wanted you to know that I’ll be leaving for Val Royeaux tomorrow, and that you are welcome to come along. I was thinking maybe we should continue the lessons on the road,” he said, stammering a little.

Solas chuckled. “Of course, I’ll accompany you. I don’t intend on leaving you alone while you discover your magic,” he answered, and Ysa felt relief wash over him. “Now, come with me. Let’s find a quiet place to begin your training.”

He started walking towards the village’s exit. Ysa walked beside him in silence. People weren’t paying him too much mind now; the thrill of seeing the “Herald of Andraste” had faded a little, and they didn’t feel the need to stare at him now. For that he was grateful. They walked passed the gate of Haven, and then through the tents of the soldiers, and then headed towards a wood. There was a blanket of snow on the ground, which crunched under their feet. They walked passed a small house at the edge of the woods, which seemed abandoned; probably the house of some woodcutter or forest ranger who lived here before. They entered the woods and walked a little before Solas stopped.

“Here should be a nice place. There are trees around, and no human to spot us,” he said, turning to face him. “We’ll try to wake up the trees again.”

“Wake them up? Do you mean they are sleeping right now? How can you know?” asked Ysa, taken aback.

“Yes. I felt it the other day when you made the tree move voluntarily. It took you some time to make it stir, because it was asleep. A tree who is awake would be way more responsive to your power.”

“Are they asleep because it’s winter?” That would be the logical reason. And it would mean that he would be stronger come spring.

“No. They’ve been asleep for millenia. The only way to wake them up is with magic, and it can only be temporary.”

“Millenia? Why did they fall asleep? How was it when they were awake, then?”

“In due time, lethallan,” chuckled Solas. “You do not need to know this for now. Let’s just focus on awaking your power. If you get used to communing with the trees, it should become more natural for you to do it, and it will be both easier and quicker.”

That was… underwhelming. But he knew he would have to be patient, and allow his power time to grow and get used to.

“Alright. Tell me what I should do,” he replied.

“Well, first, I’d like you to meditate among trees daily. Any tree will do, so you don’t have an excuse to skip this step. It’s very important that you do it.”

He nodded in response.

“Then, today we’ll try to make a tree move again. And I will explain to you some basic concepts of magic.” He clasped his hands behind his back. Ysa prepared for the incoming lesson.

“Magic is a tool that allows you to overcome the limits of the physical world,” began his teacher. “Magic must always be fueled, and can be fueled either by the Fade - often with the help of spirits - or by life essence. But you can also combine the two, and doing so results in very powerful spells. The amount of fuel used influences the strength of the spell; so a spell cast with Fade in a place where the veil is thin will be more powerful, and a spell cast with life essence when spilling blood will also be more powerful. One of the reasons why most humans frown on blood magic - which is the term they use to describe magic using life essence as a fuel - is because it’s easy to increase the amount of fuel in this type of magic as long as you’re willing to pay the price - or make others pay the price in your stead.”

Ysa nodded. That fitted with what he already knew.

“Now,” resumed Solas, ”usually the reason why blood mages spill blood with each spell is because they’re unable to use their life essence without blood. But it doesn’t mean that it’s impossible. That is exactly what you did each time you controlled trees - you used your life essence without blood, because you are able to. It is an extremely rare ability, even rarer because it makes the use of magic almost impossible to detect, so it’s very hard to know for sure if someone indeed has this power.”

He paused, giving him the time to ask questions.

“I think I get everything for now. Are you able to use your life essence to cast spells?”

“I am, but not without spilling my blood. I already told you that I’ve only known of one person able to do it - besides you, of course.”

Ysa hummed, and didn’t ask anything else.

“Now, your connection to plants. As you know, blood magic allows the caster to control someone else. But plants don’t have blood, and thus don’t react to it. But they are living beings, so they still react to the purest form of life essence - which you, Ysa, are able to use.” He looked at him intently, as if he was analysing him. “Can you describe to me how it felt, when you made the tree move on purpose?”

He thought about it for a while before answering. “I felt as if I touched its... spirit with mine? And then I felt its spirit grow, and when I asked it to move, it did,” he replied, hoping his answer was clear.

“I see. Then what you felt at first was both your and the tree’s life essences touching. If you use your life essence to touch the life essence of anyone, you should then be able to influence them while contact lasts,” he said. “And when giving the order to move you must have unconsciously projected your intentions onto the tree, which reacted to your intention.”

“I guess it would work better if I managed to make conscious everything that I do unconsciously, right?”

Solas smiled. “Yes. That is the point of those lessons. Making every step conscious so that you are able to reproduce them when you need it. Now, are you ready to try?”

“Yes, I am,” he answered. Without being prompted, he walked to a tree and stopped next to it, without touching it. He reached for the tree’s mind with his own - no, not mind, life essence - and felt the tree stir at the contact.

“Very good,” whispered his teacher. “Now, move the tree as if it were you. You take control of his actions.”

He tried to move the tree through himself. Nothing seemed to change, and he couldn’t figure out how to do it. He could touch the tree’s life essence with his, yes, but he couldn’t take control of it. Solas was watching him carefully, whispering words of encouragement. “Think about how it felt when you did it last time. Focus.” But last time, he didn’t try to possess the tree. He just  _ asked _ it to move. But he had to find out how to consciously do it; asking the tree wasn't the solution. He tried again to take control of the tree, and failed. He was growing frustrated.

He looked at Solas. “I can’t do it,” he said, irritated.

The other smiled at him. “It’s alright. You’ll manage next time. Getting frustrated about it will get you nowhere. We’ll try again tomorrow,” he offered. His words were soothing and his irritation left him almost instantly. He took a deep breath.

“Yes, you’re right, Solas. Thank you. I’ll try to keep my emotions in check next time,” he said.

“You should. Emotional instability is what attracts demons. You have to be really calm, almost in a meditative state, to cast spells without any risk. Not that you risk attracting a demon without drawing from the Fade, but you should still be careful, and it still applies to you. Speaking of which, I’ll return to Haven now but I expect you to stay here and meditate. I’ll see you later, lethallan,” he said, and left for the village, following the trail of footprints they had left in the snow earlier.

Ysa was left alone in the trees. He heard the light wind shudder through the branches of the trees around him. It was peaceful. He sat down on the ground, using his fur mantle to avoid getting snow on himself. The temperature was brisk, but not too cold; he could stand it. He leaned against the tree he had tried to move earlier and closed his eyes.

It was dark when he reopened them. He felt fully relaxed. He stretched and got up; he was really hungry. He realised he had skipped lunch. He dusted off the snow from his coat and went back to Haven.


	7. To Val Royeaux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smaller chapter this time.  
The past week has been quite busy and I expect it to remain busy for some time.  
Thank you for your patience!

They left at dawn the following morning.

Cassandra wasn’t thrilled by the idea of having to negotiate with Chantry officials next to an elven apostate and a dwarf; but she knew it was important that Solas stayed close to Ysa, who had just discovered that he was a mage. That was an information they had to hide from the Chantry at all costs - it was already hard enough that an elf would be the Herald of Andraste, but they would never accept a mage as the front figure of the Inquisition. They would be deemed heretics and traitors, and targeted by the templars as well. 

She looked to her right, where Ysa was riding next to her. They hadn’t talked a lot since that day in the forest. She had to admit that it was hard for her to accept that the Maker would send a mage in their time of need. Plus, his magic was clearly weird - she had had lessons in detecting magic and yet was unable to feel anything coming from him, save from a few tingles when he was actively using it, if she was focusing enough.

He and Solas seemed to have grown closer too. Solas was visibly extremely intrigued by the Herald’s power, and didn’t try to hide his interest for it. She only had to hope that he would stay loyal to their cause, because she feared that he had enough influence over Ysa to convince him to betray them all. And he could definitely do it - after all, mages aren’t to be trusted, and while she had nothing against elves, Solas had something against the humans oppressing them. Which was understandable, really, but she couldn’t afford to lower her guard in his presence.

She had thought long about what to tell Ysa, or how to behave with him. She had begun to trust him, and this trust had been broken when she witnessed him using magic. Did he really not know he was a mage until then? What if he had just been hiding his powers all this time? And what of their nature? Fire and ice are dangerous enough, but he didn’t use the elements to get rid of the wolf. He used _ will. _ And there was only one kind of magic allowing its users to manipulate the will of other beings - blood magic.

She had to find a way to know for sure his intentions, and whether he really was unaware of his powers until then. She also had to find him an actual magic teacher - she didn’t trust Solas one bit. She knew loyalists in Val Royeaux, and would try to contact them and explain the situation, and hopefully at least one of them would agree to help. If the Herald was sincere, then she knew he had it in him to do good - she had seen it. He just needed guidance.

They walked a paved path, and there was no sign of bandits or any other sort of danger. She turned her thoughts to their upcoming meeting with the Chantry. It had to work - they had no other choice. If only they listened, they would see that the Herald was no monster. Never once had she seen him lose his temper - except to fear - and never once had she heard him raise his voice. He was as calm as Solas, but while the latter seemed to simply be very good at hiding his emotions, Ysa had this feeling of naivety about him that made her want to protect him at all cost - except now she knew he was a mage, and that made him dangerous, and changed everything. Hopefully the loyalists would be able to tell if he was sincere or not in his lack of knowledge about magic. Come to think of it, he was amnesic - maybe he had simply forgotten how to use it?

They rode in silence in the brisk air of the morning. She tried once again to focus on the task ahead, but her thoughts always returned to the man on his right, as they did every time she tried to think of something else the past few days. Unable to concentrate, she let out a frustrated groan.

“Is it the thought of having to spend the next ten days with us that makes you that happy, Seeker?” asked an annoying dwarven voice behind her.

And Varric. _ Varric. _ He had no reason whatsoever to be here, and only tagged along because Ysa liked him. And somehow everyone thought it was a good idea. She turned her head to scowl at him.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’ll begin to think that you like me, you know,” he said with a smirk. Smirk she so desperately wanted to punch out of his face. But now was not the time to argue among themselves - they still had a lot of road ahead, and she needed their cooperation when facing the Chantry officials. With luck, they would be able to just drop the two of them off at the inn and she would go to the meeting alone with Ysa. Who she also needed to cooperate, but she had less doubts about him than the others. She just needed him to act human enough for people to rest assured. She sighed and turned back to face the road.

“You know very well what I think of you, dwarf,” she replied. Her Nevarran accent was always thicker when she was angry. “But I will not let my personal feelings get in the way of our mission.”

There. She only had to be polite to him. To tolerate him. No feelings involved; it was for the greater good.

She heard a chuckle to her left. She clenched her jaw, waiting for a smug comment from the apostate, but he didn’t elaborate further. Had he decided to make an effort himself too? In this case, maybe this diplomatic expedition wasn’t doomed after all.

===

Solas’ magic lessons had been very theoretical so far. He hadn’t made Ysa try to control a tree again since his failure a few days prior. Instead, he focused on teaching him the fundamentals of magic - he had to find a way to connect to the Fade while awake. That would help him stabilise his power, as well as enable him to do other forms of magic than blood magic.

But his progress was slow, and he was getting frustrated. They would reach Val Royeaux the following day, and he still hadn’t managed to consciously enter the Fade even once. Solas had tried to reassure him, telling him that it usually took months for children with the gift of magic to get familiar with the Fade. But Ysa was no child, and not making progress was disheartening. He couldn’t rely on his powers as they were now - they were unpredictable and he had yet to find the pattern that awoke them. He decided to ask Solas about it after their evening class.

“May I ask you something, Solas?” he asked the other elf as he was about to get into his tent. They had individual tents this time, and Ysa was grateful for it, because he didn’t like the thought of Solas knowing his whereabouts at night. Not that he was doing anything of interest.

Solas stopped and turned back to face him. “What is it, lethallan?”

“I was wondering about my powers - how they appeared, I mean. I was able to subconsciously use them twice when I was in life-threatening situations, which I guess is to be expected. But I was then able to use them another time consciously after chasing off the wolf in the forest. Why? And why can’t I summon them anymore now?”

Solas looked at him for a while, seemingly lost in thought, before replying. The light of the fire camp next to them projected an uneven light on his face, making his expression even harder to read than usual.

“If you had been using the Fade that day, the answer would have been obvious: you subconsciously connect to it when in danger, and you were still connected after the wolf incident, which would have been why you were able to move the tree.” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “However, I was there, and I am certain you did not pull from the Fade. I only felt you connect to the tree, like you connected to the wolf before. And I know that you are still able to connect your life essence with other beings, because I can feel it. So your current problem lies in communicating your intent to your target - and imposing your intent over its own.”

Ysa pondered on the thought for a moment. “It didn’t feel like imposing my will, when I did it, though,” he said, answering slowly.

Solas chuckled in response. “You quite literally ordered the tree to move, Ysa. Is this not imposing your will?”

He sighed. “You are right, of course, Solas. Sorry for bothering you. I just… need to understand how all of this works.”

“I am your teacher in the magical arts, Ysa. You should not feel sorry for asking questions. Even for me, the kind of power you have is quite intriguing.”

“Thank you for this,” he said with a smile. “I have no more questions. Good night, Solas.”

“Good night, lethallan,” said the elf, and he retreated inside his tent for the night.

Ysa didn’t feel like sleeping, though. His mind was buzzing with questions. He decided to take a night stroll; they were in civilised territory and there were no bandits in the area, and he could count on his elven eyes to notice any potential danger anyway.

His thoughts went first to Cassandra. She was still avoiding him, 6 days after the incident. Of course, she was still talking to him when it was necessary, and didn’t compromise their mission in any way; but he had grown to like her as something more than a simple colleague. He wished she would reconsider her position, which, despite Varric’s optimistic words to him, she didn’t.

He passed over a small brook, nimbly hopping from stone to stone. The night air was cold, and there were still patches of snow on the ground, as winter was slowly giving in to spring. There were a few trees here and there, and he found himself wondering what would happen if he connected to them, _ gently, not imposing on them but asking them instead. _Without thinking, he slowed down and approached one of them, extending a hand to touch it.

“Good evening, tree,” he said, closing his eyes and reaching for its essence with his own. “I am a friend.” He made contact, and felt the tree awaken at the invisible touch of his will. “My name is Ysa.” To these words, the essence of the tree abruptly flared up. Ysa’s eyes shot open and he took a step back, surprised. He could still feel the tree in his mind, almost connected to it. He had never felt anything so powerfully, not even when he made the tree move on purpose the first time.

Now was the time to test his theory. He took another step back, and then another. When the tree was a few meters away, he spoke up again.

“Come here, please,” he said, focusing on what he felt, and on the tree who seemed to shine in his mind. He felt the tree answer in agreement - he had no idea how he was able to interpret anything, but he _ knew _ that was what just happened. And then, he saw the tree’s roots slither in and out of the ground, in and out, while the tree slowly came to him. But it didn’t feel like he was doing anything - and none of what he was witnessing made any sense with what Solas had taught him about magic. Wasn’t he supposed to use his life force to impose his will on the tree? He was certain he hadn’t made any effort right now.

Just to be sure, he moved further away, and repeated the experience. This time, he didn’t even try to focus on the tree - he just asked him to move to him, while still feeling its presence in his mind. And the tree moved again.

Maybe he could just control trees like other mages control fire, he thought to himself. It made as much sense as anything else. _ Except that trees are living creatures. _ Should he tell Solas about it? He really wanted to share his discovery - but he remembered how the elf had reacted when he had tried to tell him that he didn’t impose his will but ask, and he wasn’t sure how he would take the news. He would probably deny that he wasn’t doing “proper blood magic”. So maybe he should just tell him that he finally managed it, without arguing about how, but focusing on the what.

He thought for a second about bringing the tree all the way to the camp, but he didn’t want to alienate Cassandra more than what was already happening. Varric would probably laugh, though. He smiled to himself as he turned around to get back to his tent. Maybe he would find a way to prank his friend without frightening Cassandra. He would think about it on their journey back to Haven - tomorrow they would arrive in Val Royeaux, and they had a lot of work to be done.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
